not drowning
are you ever going to be
where I want you to be
in a shard of green light
in cézanne
in a chopper
a mottled cliff at 3 o’clock
below
grey sea
useless the colour of guts
and all that’s inside me
in the dark for decades
then squandered in sunshine
cinematic dystopias
the slow wine
of ancient hypertexts
ambiguous lines
drift through an under
ground carpark
it’s in your dream, your movie
black limos glide
a star
on each side
impasto of tyre hush
and the thud of car doors
we pass
steel elevator doors
a slow ghost
bends, a shopping bag
her child
in a pusher
strings, unisons
a slow beat, sixths
somewhere
mortal flesh
falls
silent