II
I see vineyards from my window now.
Vineyards and clock towers,
Sloping terracotta roofs, a train track
And a faint line of grey Danube.
The sunlight falls like a baby
Walking for the first time-
The open sky watches patiently.
It knows of what is to come.
IV
I lunge for your face,
Only to find a thick, empty air
Cocooned in my fist.
I try to call a name,
A distant echo of a politely structured past.
But the flesh obstructs itself-
The jaws are still
like time always is
when the heart is broken.
You have me on my knees,
Absent hassock, mocking floor.
I am half of what I used to be.
I am deadened, bent, burnt and bought.
You made me forget that my tongue
Is also a muscle.
Tree Farm
We are walking through a tree farm
Piles and piles of tree trunks
Stacked on top of one another
Unlit pyres under taller, greener trees-
Muddy tracks branching out like veins,
The air is heavy with the smell of sap.
There is no one else here
Only dead trees
And living trees
And a faint murmur in the wind-
Maybe we shouldn’t be holding hands.
