The Bookshop Sessions #2

In a flight

her smell enchants 

to be

I bow

those inner thighs 

some way how

she moves

Scars from open windows

crawl across her face 

for amber lit streets

call at last 

In another flight 

the comet’s head 

catches similar scars

so it spins

A small shadow from your foot

still burns in the street 

Its lamplit remembrance

goes on and on  

and on

The park held us

when all left

you would say

Watch the sky, it steals

We were young 

helping the streets couldn’t

His pendulum swing

and steppings to beat

matching yours

ripped the rhythm from

So close 

pulled in

your lower back 

whispered him;

a small flight,

my love 

I see now

a riverside ledge

could never tame

the emerald one

with a glassy eye

its purple banners

and benches

holds some part of us 

still