Photo credit: David Ishaya Osu, Cornwall
Kitchen garden
it is hard to trust oranges, i told her / after pizza: not a strange hand, but a pleased paper flowers with round melodies. first time in the city: i was very cold, but i was happy / the
skin of / ripe plums say my mind / it’s not the window’s fault, we really wanted to cry & go home. all the time she sang, all the time it rained, all the time we creaked, all the time
trees are not silent lengths: look / a standing lamp was made to stand, sign off the eggs & secrets: she makes me love laces, glasses: pour all the wine, the language of ovals heals
Note: This poem has appeared in Issue 21 of Gutter Magazine, biannual periodical published in Scotland. You can get a copy of the edition here.