WALNUTS
hanging
from the twisted
mesh of branches
you stay loyal
to your tree –
drawing out
departure until
the last moments
of spring
scrotum shaped
with skin the texture
of hessian
your husk
is hosting
a pair of Siamese twins
while down the middle
your enclosure is welded
shut
I break open
your rugged
earthy shell
with a rock
.
.
ICE-SHELF
I walk along the darkest horizon line
between belief
and disbelief
through air colder than
an open freezer
follow needle pricks for stars
wait endlessly in hospital corridors
while each moment slices
through the muscle of words
I can no longer find
before re-entering a room full of hope
and fear
where I sit
for hours
with only the pulse of the monitor screen
to keep me awake
and mark time
by the nurses’
changing shifts
until finally
grief
breaks off
its ice-shelf
and drips intravenously
through my subconscious