Monday

See here beneath my spacesuit
to the spacesuit underneath
and beyond that the girl
with the skin like a spacesuit?

I wondered about you cutting it off
like a cord so I flew
backwards into the spaces
of your naked beauty.

And if I immortalise you
ever so quick before you disappear
in a kissing-shaped hole in a cornfield,
will you become available

as the brightest ever moon?
Words come and go, empty as selves-
though I would like to have touched you
even by this.

Like all tides I’ve become a girl
on a page. Pick up my squeals
and put them close against your ear.
The rush of air is the sound of longing

even now far away
from the sea.






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