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