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

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

mortal flesh