When Winter Brings Me My Sickness
When the smell of lavender no longer
drifts in the garden
pavements are amber matted
with carpets of dead leaves,
sky loses its vibrant colours
as Winter begins to breathe.
Moored in dystopian skylines
I feel that winter will bring me my sickness
On days where moods like to hide
in the spaces of silver breaths,
wait like an expectant bride
beneath ashes of unnecessary confetti.
When winter brings me my sickness
I will sleep with the bones of isolation
naked under flickering candlestick,
a muted and self-exiled alienation;
When winter brings me my sickness.
Frost on the Window
Behind oblong glass
Agoraphobic eyes stared at the outside breath
that can only be visualised through nets and eyes
in uncomfortable grey.
Peering fish tank window – a world he can’t enter
frost exhaled from lip where the sun penned circles on a faraway car bonnet in light.
Red berries in frost like paused chocolate drops in blood
a square of translucent glass – each corner a small triangle of flake and live frost.