Twisted Bridges

For years you told me your dreams
(other women).
A falling body looks
for these thermals, is borne up.

*

I'm always running.
I'll visit you.
I'm coming.

*

It's only in memory,
that twisted bridge,
that we meet this way:
with an eye for composition
sharing the two halves
harmonising cut edges

*

For years I ascended the stairs
which led to no better understanding.
Just to your door. I can hear the radio.
You're singing along. My body waits
to be told off
and on again.

*

Twisted Bridges

I'll leave a fun-sized greeting card
at the scene of the crime.
The sunset is a paper crown coronation,
the houses collapse. People in the
foreground, lighthouse behind.
(shadow puppets, broken
beacons, wrapping paper pressed
and saved)

*

There's nothing to bind us.
Our fate is story.
What children make
from their dirty hands.

*

Memory is not just corroboration.
It's resistance, too:
my face drawing me
into the consciousness of glass
which honours my distortions.