Marguerita Sky

Let me just...

Watch as the sky unfolds
in a blizzard the colour of salt
and spit:

a Marguerita sky, so cold his lips
turn blue.

The glass cracks; he falls,
finds himself snarled by brambles.

Leaves invade his mouth;
shoots snake in, pierce his lungs.

You deserve this:
every last snag of thorn raking
those insistent fingers,
every vine snaking down your throat.

I watch him still and stiffen,
his face a bruise, its pale meth blue.

The engine's on; warm air blows.
On the window, my breath blooms
and fades.

Outside, a robin's song spills
its berries in the freezing blur.

You wanted this.

Marguerita Sky

I dredge it up from somewhere:
the radio, those old cassettes.
They called it 'paradise'.

I heard he died some time ago.

I wait and watch.
It's so cold outside.