We dreamed and a bird flew

into our bedroom window

 

like a heavy book

dropped in the dark.

 

Not a crack appeared

in your eyes but this

 

lingers in me like that dream

when we were in bed and you spoke

 

with Her mouth

at my shivering dick

 

saying, “I love you, I know what you love.”

Even dreaming I knew this was wrong

 

but my dick is a simple machine, a straw.

Her mouth was hot as blood

 

and as you slept she cut me open, smiled

and swallowed so hard I had to pull

 

your gold hair apart and kiss your cheeks

as if I’d never loved another, as if I knew

 

you would die. So now I can’t fall

back to sleep and wake you up

 

the slow way in which I’d fix you a bath.

We go outside. The grass is damp and gets caught

 

between our toes and we find this bird,

his neck broken by clear,

 

sunlit sky – more like a fish

than a bird. His wings folded

 

behind his back in prayer. His body below

a window hard as waking, sharp as grass.

 

 

First published in B O D Y, July 2013