I will never leave that day

and the rain there.

sad collision
   and what they both know

                                                                                           out of the corner of the eye
       it rains was it that the clouds
       no trellis could no trellis could no trellis could no trellis could
       did you make a sound
                                   are you trying to          listen
out in the corner of the eye
wide

parting like a lunula yawning lines on the bark of a silver birch I
can almost see the breath and what’s left stuck in the
throat

half-severed poppy stem a thumbnail below the calyx

yes,
     even as [              ]
and effigy, like you say   or
stone still, immobile, but hoping for a fracture, just
a fracture, or meeting at a point

(there’s writing on your handtake it in, get over it, get
it over with, let it out
ink it’s just ink but not)

yes,
      even as|
Persephone in the halls

teeth would be nice

Helen (IIII IIII)

If it was
    longing what do you call it now

Helen (IIII IIII)

how many others glancing
                                         at you

I stood on a puddle of ice
today. I realised inertia scared me I was in a room
, she told me ‘save me a seat’ and veered Across the room he watched


‘Jack, sit here’, he said And I perched with him The
couch wouldn’t fit both of us And our spines
almost touched

And in doing so lost both

because I can walk free
because there are trees, still
because I haven’t slept

Cut as opening, tongue
drip with honey antiseptic
acid. Lancets.
Things tearing themselves shut.
     Picture line heading straight from wrist
over floor to front entrance,
trailing out to street

Helen (IIII III)

Across the room, blue
at the door, flicking up a hood.
I don’t need to say they’re leaving

He’s a karyatid. That’s what I was thinking of, when I was thinking of limping wolves that gnawed off their rotten limbs and kept moving through the ice. He has blood on his lips. I thought so. All that weight he’s pushing up and he doesn’t even show it. I’d snap

Helen (IIII II)

Are you here?
You don’t tell me when you’re gone

try
not being seen, looked-at
unfamiliar

moving past moving past moving past

don’t fucking touch me

my skin’s like paper
sounds like paper
at least

what is the last thing

what is the last thing