Mornings

 

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.