3 Lost and One Held Onto In The Dark Moves Out Of Winter

Reader

Gone light from eyes, light of kind
argument, a voracious spirit
calls. This walk, that one. We’re
alone in it all, unbearable.

Starry pockets in sky at night
“the planets sing” and we
long to join them. No, we
stay. Our books proved it,

while we were out, gone, nothing
left but shells. Hold them
to your ears hard enough
and you’ll hear the sea.
 

Reporter

Uncork this rare honesty from
a gone age. Won’t come again.
Venus bryghte, we share that
drip of toxic cure, hope.

That we are powerless doesn’t
stop our rage at brokers
of world health. So sickness
turns on them and their wealth

passes. Language will hold
its shine. So we raise
this glass, this sharp truth
we revel in, starry red.
 

Shiner

Walk in a favourite place under
stars and around knapped flint.
You walking never still grew
there, it was a dark and stormy

Christmas. Long ago. Wind out of
northeast, waders grounded, memory.
Children singing as if forever
and everything green and

wet, moving to a new time by what
means it can. Your mum and I
whisper how much we miss
going together to meet it.
 

Singer

Machine sticks for no
reason. Blast it
and move on. There’s
so much I want to do

and say now. So it
comes out under stars alone.
Your voice in this room
has been with me

all I want to remember of
waking. Moon makes
your hair silver as you
sew on. Stitches together.