sitting down to dinner
we removed our skin
and dared to look
into the silence
passed the illusion of flesh.
a shining spirit clings to a skeleton
their teeth chattering
afraid of the dark / afraid of the light
there is a distant piano chord and the teeth,
ivory keys now,
disperse and travel in sea-shell patterns
into the pit.
into the pulse.
we hung our faces on the washing line for a while.
i look at the intangible who(?)
who is now sitting in front of me.
a cloudburst of wanton gold
of nothing and everything
and an ancient brass coin spinning in-between
a pink waterfall
a river losing its way to the sea
blue stones of shimmering flint
there was a candle flickering
in the mass
and a huge featherless baby-bird bursts wet from the memory of a ribcage
i see slowly moving mountains
fine lines of white quartz
tunnels with no way back
i see a single matchstick twiddling its moustaches
awaiting a striker
a bed of velvet cushions and rose-pink petals
i see many hands
i see a child dressed all in white
i see eyes
i see horse-heads and sandstone and ropes
i see screaming and laughing
“i see you.”
and she says
“i feel it”
– love from only skin