Exhale

hope cuts through / fire falling from trees

My manner

Having cooked haggis with an Irish woman and a Ukranian
And realising I’m a New Scot

There are more planes sub mare
Than submarines

Well I woke up this morning
My head was full of snow
Been dreamin’ of winter wonderlands
And now I gotta go

At dusk, she works her way into the heart
Of a wind-tilted tree
Bracing her feelers as flesh falls away to bone
Securing to sylvan self

Gathering me into a mesh so fine
While we sip wine from the chipped teacups
Of the Mad Hatter’s broken bar.

A whisper;
There’s more left for you in life than this.

Twisted Colon’s second anthology is available to buy now.

Secured by a rolling hitch, /
And with your sheets held fast, /
You set sail on your hospital bed…