...and her violet to my black.

stupid vacuum cleaner.

at least the vodka's a preety colour: translucent, like new parchment

tomorrow.

oh tomorrow.

what colour ink will we use for these pages?
unnumbered cos i dun wanna know where we are until each chapter opens new
verse
chapter
verse
illustrated in shadow and song
illuminated in sun and starlight
pages gilded in gleaming gloaming
horizon-cover'd, ember-edged
i scratch words into your skin, you fill the pictures with promise
you scribe light-fingered on my hull, and i colour the plates with hope

this book is bound in the skins of new maps
spined in smoke and stone
clasped in dragonflies and the bulbs of tomorrow's flowers
it has no home on a shelf
a workbook
tome, spellbook, hymnal, codex

hallelujah









there's too much of it, some times
i feel i may burst