we don’t make love we make live

it will be the days no one follows   I died
with   and was reborn   like they used to

the days when everyone will be drunk
            & asking each other for help

it will have been a long while since two
passersby bumped into each other

like flutes on a wind chime   knocking
accidental song out of a stranger’s body

two girls will be high as concrete
                                    summoning the moon

one will be knackered
from lugging sheet music out of rubble

the other
            will be holding up every shard
            of glass to the light
            looking for a scream
she may or may not have dropped here

with humidity blurring the mountains
            air con drip drips

                                    & I will roll
            up another one
                        stomach churning in the heat

these will be the days when bone collectors in
cufflinks order our nations to forget

            we will become sudden to remember
            one another   you & I
            a reunion resisting amnesia

then, I will be holding your small wet pulse
in my open jaw   looking at you like a dog
cradling in his mouth what he’s forbidden to chew

two startled creatures in cotton t-shirts
            practising being alive

Read more from Issue No. 27 or share on Twitter.