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.