Glass

outside, two children pull the
wind back under their t-shirts

smoulder & smoke
into two fat fists of need

bring their hands down in bars of
light & drink from their reflections

if you listen closely, you can hear
the gravity lift off their thighs like

sad music; the kind that makes you
want to forget, the kind that keeps

your eyes locked on the moon’s open
jaw for hours – they have always

wanted to be the clot of blood you
dawn and sharpen in your hands

ripe nubs of azaleas for mouths,
they kiss the gods their feet

learnt to worship: the soft
dirt, foxglove, grass

this is the forest where they became
mythless again & inside, they nailed

their bodies to its dark
long / winged / &

faultless as the throat of god
snow ashes / snow breaks

& snow lifts / Go ahead / tell god of
your marble voice, the light

see what He will do
don’t be fooled: what you love

most must be untouchable / there
is no tender omen to describe this