Rambling fire, rend asunder no man who,

In wisdom, sways adrift in your flame.

Memory holds aloft that painful morn

When all was sky pink, hair black and flesh blue,

That shimmering sunless afternoon when

Death seeped through rubbish bins and cold love

Gave it a chrome edge like sandwich plastic.

Lonely, a warm hand moves over cold ribs

Imagining the ribs were broken and

The hand belonged to someone female.