in a summer switched on too long

dull yawning
drowsy procession
of intermission limbs
for motion

I see a gap widening
and we leak ourselves in,
fish in our hips for overheated

phones — there and then,
that’s when I catch news of you, feel
something in me

like a loose filling
falling out of the mouth
of the day.

surely you still burned
in that curious comet way —

your mood whipping out of the shade,
a scorpion circling your lip,

looking for you now in the tail of the crowd
looking wryly at me

but the ushers curve us away,
back to door three; candles blown out
to a rusty volcano glow.

we have boxed ourselves in our seats,
desperate gravity beneath us
my battery close to draining

these spots in my eyes dancing,
white dwarves climbing back
into the jaws of red giants

and already you are cooling,
a thin smoke memory
wisped between and beyond our palms.

we throw them together at the end,
hurl our enthusiasm over
a balcony’s edge

to where I imagine your wax
running away in ribbons

and I begin to spin,
I feel myself

and fall in

This is my last one I think – o/