Wire Village they called it
From the industry that once built it
Small, simple dwellings
And a four room schoolhouse
Hardworking people
When the business went away
So did many families
Little towns struggling to reinvent themselves
And now we look back
What can we learn
there are the old tales
of the man who went for smokes
and never returned
as if it was that easy
afraid of laughter
in case it turned showery
caressing with smoke
lungs that gave up long ago
filled with that small joy
and he said, 'fuck it', and went
elsewhere, far beyond
the reach of life's pain and hope
as if his long trail
of lived days led to one choice
as if it wasn't
the weight of so much choosing
that crushed him to a fine dust
snug door
storm trapped outside
the shape of you in the darkness
our bones still humming to the tyres
skin patterned by stitched seats
eyes busy with back projections rolling
hands full wet clothes puddled
somewhere it is morning
there are people on their way to work
this is the stolen place between lies
where we can be true
light switch hidden but not needed
rain picking at the roof
wind wrestling the branches
peace in the darkness
your eyes and the pour of time
through my breached defences
i am uncertain of my edges now
aware of the mixing swirl
of a cosmos in which we are the dance
of endless restless smallness
we are the coalescence of waveforms
mingling in a glance
itself embroiled in the everything
a sharing of the tales light tells
a charge, a spark in the shadows
like the bunched duvet
you left behind to haunt me
memory of wood
sucked dry by the thirsty flames
left ghost, a haunting
shaped from the fire's soft grey tears
collapses empty
beneath the settling structure
we carefully built
later i'll make the spare bed
leave ours your lost body's cave
fuzzy-edged distortion
your hands warm in my hands
we breathe across the sky
foraging for dreams we misplaced
and forgot the flavours of
drift smoke-light across dusks
each more heartbreakingly beautiful
singing tales soft
we hope and fear are heard
and dread hearing bounced back
from uncaring slabbed dullness
we dissolve and fizz
edges like ash exhilarating
in spin and drift
sometimes it's easier to hold on
than it is to see you