Tucked into your waistband
a postcard from Morecambe
six scenes from townside and countryside
Brushed cotton on my back
Shoulders shimmy the beat
goes slow quarter tempo
Do you remember the picture house in Oxford Street
mystery your organza dress
and how whatever it was that held the sky together
got ripped open
and the expected deluge was more of a rebirth
a heaviness from ground upwards, breaking
back to back
and at one of the funerals, how you wore my jacket
bodies of dead soup sunken flesh
dropped earth on my coffin
became free from last lines
on pages of rhythm of tides
those splashes of sea water in your throat
not stuck in webs mantraps
I must have but I don't remember
calmness of silence
mourned you frequently
back to back
never danced back to back before
in ether my ether
claim it shape it
This time, the separation is hard
Keep in touch if you can help me
clear leftovers from winter
memories of memories that are now things
Make a date for June
Come round for solstice
We could share a drink or two