boy with bird alighting

If soul was a lark
eager to soar
but found a noose
bound tight
aflight it’s curling claw

It’s been an age old fear
that’s kept me stranger to the dentist’s care

he’d been counting to a thousand
after what seemed a lifetime
there in his cold studio
his solitude of secret thought
she found him
where else?

under hollow attic roofs
roared winds about
incessant and
immense
lashing rain to
batter down my counted sheep

I’m the stalker of your ghost
You’re the one I miss the most
In the queue
Queuing up for you

i caught it first
on the warm air
dog-nosed open
the shed
the stench was strong
she shut the door
made strong tea
burned the toast

silent home

your body is my home
your home is my body

you like to polish the cherry wood
until it gleams
to see yourself in my reflection
narcissist or feminist
a male echo of an ever illusive female

your body is my home
my body is yours

He climbs the stairs to Bethlehem
where swaddling bands are strewn
about the attics
between the craters
of the scattered bloodied moon

The Coffer
Coughs
Spits out the last
Farthing falls
Its tiny copper wren
Spinning
Spinning
Spinning
On the slate

The Cupboard
Chokes
Suffocated by countless suits of morbid hue
A mothy morgue of Naphthalene
Historically misused
It should be full of cups and plates
Not swanky
Musty
Shoes

he was waiting for life
to remember him
to smile
to nod
as it always had

leave me be
get out
go way
way back when before then
before the past
that was me

Jesus sits on a cold stone
His arse has gone to sleep
As have all his tired cronies
They’ve been walking for years
To this treacherous grove
Towards this one moment

The other day
When love abandoned us
Scurried as a frightened bird from its cradle
Clamouring through the thicket
Aggrieved
We were emptied as that perfect nest…

Those lost
Are never found
To heaven or hell
To flooding sky or rotting earth
They’re given
Up
Gone