Mornings
For two years I suffocated in you.
My sinews stretched
pulled taut between the trees
spaced at heartbeat intervals.
The world danced past unaware,
coloured bomb shelter blue;
a hospital here, a storage shed there.
A welder’s junkpile of web-stitch
looking for direction.
Autumn’s dissection;
as the clocks go back
in slips the knife.
The eyes widen.
Take a breath.
Disappear.