After Hera Lindsay Bird
You make me want to lick all the stars for their strawberry centres
And then, sick from those candy hearts, I would clamber into our bed and

Hold your too long limbs in a

Sympathy with my

Too short patiences and

I would gently promise to plant the damned aquilegias, and
To paint the ceiling in the outdoor dunny

That shade of blue I hate

But that you love, and

I would promise to never again come at you

Cold and blinking like those hollowed out stars.
You make me want to dig into the winter soil and

Take out the earthworms, to give them a better

Life inside jars of compost, warmed by a

Double glazed sun.
You make me want to find the point of scintillation

On a Mediterranean wave and

Dance up from the surface,

Into the blue depths while,

From a blue yarn of the pale light

I knit a hauberk to keep you immortal.
You make me want to lie under the shade of the linden tree

On a spring’s mild day

With my face in a sunspot

Burning

Knowing that the lines of damage

I am creating

Are MEMENTOS

Of this day

Of this you and this me.