Across the quiet, dingy pub you call
the waitress, lingering across her form,
then, passing judgment coldly look away.
She wears a pendant round her neck, it rests
between two ample *******. Her hair is blonde
and likely bleached. And as she turns to walk
towards the bar - you see her shoes are high.
Unsteady with her tray and fashion pumps
she stumbles, shows a ladder in her tights.
So when a bloke gives chase you’re not surprised
she caught his eye, you’re not surprised to see
him slap her thigh. She stumbles to the bar,
and tries to laugh it off, to hide her face,
her cheeks are red, so while he smirks to friends
and winks at her, she looks toward the floor.
Then smugly you remark, ‘I’m not surprised.
She asked for it. She’s showing too much skin.’
Your face serene, you stroke your crucifix,
‘no self respecting girl would dress like that,
she’ll have herself to blame if she gets *****’.
And in response, it swells against my teeth,
I try to bite my tongue, to hold it back,
But you have wound me far too tight for that.
‘How can you say she has herself to blame?
When she got dressed this morning did she ask
for this? And what of him is it his right
to put his hands on who and what he likes,
and you – you sit and smirk with your contempt
you blame her, though she didn’t give consent,
these notions you perpetuate, if she
gets *****,  it you and yours she’ll have to blame,’
Embarrassed now, I know I’ve said too much
I taper off, unsure of my intent.
My friend sits icy in her chair. Apart,
we stare, in careful study of our plates.
And as the waitress makes her slow approach,
to ask us if we want desserts - we flush.
Our indecision heavy in the air.

The sun fell open down the sky,
and tumbled from her womb a moon.
Behind the moon a curtain fell,
an inky swell with light stuck through.

So from the sky a light fell down
to beam upon an upturned face.
A face that for a moment shone -
it flickered then it died away.

And for a time it felt engulfing.
A moment tangled round me.
The light was bent about my shape,
it quietly embraced me.

While still, surrounded by its grasp,
the ground that held me shrank away.
I rose and to the surface broke,
and pregnant, found myself unmade.

I looked upon our coiling earth,
a shrinking trace of blue and green.
And on the earth i saw my face,
it shone, it blazed with light.

Then falling down towards myself
I stumble and am born again.
I close my eyes, for one last time
As on I walk into the night.

Now, you look at me
and spot my arm
across the kitchen table,
and instead
you look
you see
those older lines in blazing white.
These sentiments they mark mean more to you
than the lines around my eyes,
from a brow furrowed in frustration for twenty years.
Or, the mottled lines across my thighs
from where my body grew to fit my mind.

Why does my upper arm reflect my general attitude to life?
Any more than the lines around my mouth
from fits of laughter flying out,
or in my careworn hands
seen grasping tight to other hands
so much that there are lines.

And even though as children we write lines at school
until we cannot help but see that
"repetition will leave a mark".
And even though in every day
we all suffer - loss, grief and pain
in equal measure to our
joy, relief and gain
...you cannot see a line for what it is
a telltale sign of that desperate condition
known as life.

And after all the lines we draw
define us in relation to everything else
and the lines I drew upon myself defined me in relation
to the pain I felt not
as the pain I felt.
And if you look at me now
am I not a specimen of perfect health?

So why do you draw lines on me
that arrow point to labels
because my wounds take on this milky hue,
where yours were clear tinged salt tracks from your eyes
that filled a swollen belly, bony thigh or toned physique.
And all results of hollowness significant as mine.

And tell me,
what crime do I stand accused of but for feeling
with the true extent of who I am -

and leaving marks to show that I
am not afraid to feel tender
cry out,
sob gently,
and even
when I'm pushed too far
get ******* angry.

And are you telling me you don't know what I mean?
That across your body, mind - there are not lines you drew
in reaction to people, places, circumstance you knew.

And if not then may I suggest
you get in line
for a new mind
and a brand new pair of eyes
...before you wryly look across
the table at my upper arm
and ask me where I got my scars.

You do not see me -
I've seen the world reflected
in your distant eyes.

You do not feel me -
clenched around your heart beating
fast as humming birds.

You do not speak me -
out in the night, thin in the dark
like an empty oath.

You do not find me -
in the sky, sea, city, trees
where my mind wanders.

You do not touch me -
behind my eyes, beneath my soul.
It shrinks away.

You do not see me -
The gap you leave, it left you whole.
I fade away.

Are you awake right now?
Are you…thinking of me?

I see you sleeping soft sleeping deep
Some people curl up but i bet you extend
Pole to pole across your bed
Through your window
Through my window, through me
Pole to pole across the stars
And when you dream do you dream like i think you do?
Do you smile, speak, laugh in your sleep
And would you dream of me?

Would you let me calm you in the night
when you're curled up like a baby sobbing
because none of this is how you thought it would be?

I would, I would, I would rock you sweet
and tender in this endless sea
of bad reality, bad dreams, bad words, looks and people

I would wrap you in my skin to keep you just a little warmer in the dark
Let me take you in
In to me

a blackened lung heaves breath
a broken mind reflects
a wagging tongue cries out
a rolling eye drifts roundabout
the stifled gasp the strangled shout
and powder skin all slick with sweat

the murmurs in the dark,
attentive ears pricked up with doubt
tender hands pressing warm flannels
onto vacant brows

the last words over and over
is this the last? is this your last?
eyes half shut you slip into the past
and then
eyes laid out in glazy glass


i didn't see you leave just
one more moment
please

your eyes reflect light
falling over cold hillsides
slinking red tinted
slowly out of view
as we see again, anew
then soft in awe walk
hands clasped in the dark

you shone from within, the stars
dim, I overflow