Wellum

i will not speak of this again
this

light-

shows something deeper in landscape
and
proves the pointlessness of things

such as crying on the shingle
skipping in the park while nacreous clouds
burn holes into green
willow tracery

that day - the day i fell for Botticelli
- someone said the light was wrong
but how was i to know?

beyond the
razor-wire
a soft crike
unfurls- sometimes lilac in the early light

scales tip to tip scale

the fishes and i flipped wellum

and drowned you like a coin