Golden Pneumas

Golden Pneumas

At first the wind carried me,

catching my weary legs once crippled with worries

and careless whispers, now cradled by the warm breeze

and wrapped in the sweetest words.

I cannot remember the last time I uncovered this skin,

exposed it to sunlight, to movement, feet aching

from the walk across hard pavements and hill climbs.

Your hand on my bare thigh

takes me a moment to recognise it’s mine;

I watch in awe of the goosebumps that grow,

how our miracle bodies react to the cold,

bruised and scratched but satisfied.

Let me rest on this birch tree, exchange a smile

with the panting dog – he knows I know

what freedom feels like amongst the pines.

As do the birds, they haven’t stopped singing

since I stepped outdoors and their gentle presence follows me

like little Cupids,

arrows flying towards the soft lips of my new lover,

alone, as she speaks to herself.

The Night I Spent Staring At Beer Mats

The Night I Spent Staring At Beer Mats

I sip my glass of reality slowly, let its carbonated contents satisfy my thirst for presence, so sick of sinking into places I don’t belong. Arms, sofa cushions, the spaces between words – I haven’t figured out a way to stop getting stuck. I’m here, world, and I’m trying to sit still but this seat isn’t sturdy, it shakes with the strength of self-destructive thoughts and I’m scared someone else will swallow me. “Research suggests counting in situations like this”, he says, “it’s supposed to help with the grounding”; but he can’t focus to count past one and all I can count is the number of times I’ve needed to shape-shift – become smaller, softer, less secure, silent. So I stand, we leave, and I try to subtly avert my eyes from what you don’t want me to see. Or is it that you don’t want me to be seen? Outside, the sky is speckled with stars like the freckles on your skin. I start to join up the dots.

Planting Poems To Let The Light In

Planting Poems To Let The Light In

It’s a choice I will make a thousand times

every day afresh, the pull and push,

can I turn to the care

to the love that is staring back?

You are free to leave

find another pulse to crave your heartbeat

but I did not brave World War Three

for an amputation, aborting possibilities

from the spirit glowing inside of me.

Let me treat you to a lifetime

of the softest words, sprinkled over skin,

I will patiently saturate each layer,

wait here till every drop soaks in.

Wreckage

Wreckage

The edge of a cliff is a beautiful place

but I misplace confidence in my footing,

forget the risk of mud slides,

the effect of tears on mossy rocks.

By now, the fall should not come as a shock

and the shore breaks waves

like I am sure to break bones.

Blown away are the foundations

of a love to come home to,

for who could ever soften the landing

of a heart demanding to spill its own blood.

You Say I Am Still Beautiful, But I’d Rather You Told Me I Was Brave

You Say I Am Still Beautiful, But I’d Rather You Told Me I Was Brave

Sometimes the only pain I can carry is the one that burns, that draws blood, because beating myself up is the only bearable unbearable way I know to bruise. Shallow breaths don’t support screaming, starving turns dark thoughts lightweight and lightheaded means less space to care. Wait till you see my bones and how the hurt just falls off me when it has nothing to hang on to, wait till you hear my heart rupture and rush red through my ribcage like it was running for its life. Then watch how love pours out my arteries and leaves when it believes I’m better off empty. You touch this frozen, unfeeling skin but all this shrinking means I shall slip through your fingers. Taste me on the breeze, somewhere not here.

The Operation

The Operation

Direct the surgeon

to make the incision

side left, inbetween my ribs,

pausing to let the cut bleed.

I need something warm to feel on my skin at the end,

so let it trickle, leave its stain.

Insert the tube through to my chest cavity,

drain the fluid, and once I am coloured grey

then keep going

till this body fades away,

deflates,

disintegrates.

Donate my organs

to one who understands their value

better than I did,

who knows to love every breath these lungs take

and can tell each beat of our heart

it has always been good enough.