Fell Breath

Wine stained those lips,
This glass has kissed and
Fingers runs a crystal road,
The road’s no end but fingers find
In it content, recycled codes.

The finger runs a crystal bend,
Spun gold and fine shine pretence,
A recompense for days of being wild, he says,
She thought, or caught ear, but soon feared
This cavern scene could not play out so PG-13.
Her feet went flat on the way out,
Canker sores and cantankerous louts,
She doesn’t know which is worse
She thought, caught ear, impending curse,
But his arms wrapped a coat for her,
And all was well again.

A midget drinks stout from a can,
A cologne-snared young man laughs at him cruelly,  and
Fuelled by his short-lived life, no laughs shared with,
The cub breaks him clean with a Glasgow kiss,
And from skip-side corner, a covered in sick lover,
Doesn’t pick up on any of it.

Her white dress greys in cold walled alleyways,
His hands white and pinch,
A tongue curls an inch,
And by inches, a breath of mist,
Escapes the air of ochre kisses.
A tomb is spun in weaves with
Suicide seeds, and the lovers are
Joy colour blind to foresee the mishap miracle
They’ve brought to breathe, in a white room
Closing in on all sides, a signal of this most
Beautiful impending doom.

And although her hand is held in curled fingers,
There is no spun gold to see.
Only a cursive tattoo hand reads ‘Set us free’,
His hips fast twitch salute to slave apothecary.