Between the sky and my head
hides a luminous emptiness
that has barely learnt to crawl .
It’s growing in spurts;
in bits and pieces,
paraphrased and interrupted.
Between the sky and my head is
an exhibition of hammer and nails. You drop
a shilling and find me .
I lose myself.
I am only a face in many a million worlds.
Between the sky and my head is an interval
That could last a lifetime.
If only I could pocket the minutes
That rise and fall.
You could leave or reconsider
A lot goes on between the sky and my head.
All you needed was
a ladder that would take you home.
And I was only trying
to build us some peace.
.
.
.
Breathe.
