I haven’t left this dream in weeks, plucking words from threads of web and positioning them perfectly in nests of nowhere.
There’s been this ebb; you’ve seen it, you felt it – I felt it when I first looked out and saw the wet snakeskin stretched, and the rivulets in gusts of sun shifting over the moving muds of harbour.
I looked out, and then I said to you – before the sun even saw us speak – I told you that I knew. “I know”, I said. You knew.
Since then that ebb is now a throbbing magnet of attraction, love – a screaming hush, wary words prowling past our glazing eyes like an animal; ravenous, but elusive.
I keep spinning from you – and pulling you in – you keep trying to eat the absence while I regurgitate you more and more. There are reels and reels of us – you gather and spool, while I spew out screeds in recess.
I can’t help but picture your folded charms; we’re so bright-eyed, with mine widened in blue-guiled mania. But oh, how you’re steadily sickened by the slow release of my separation …