WHEN GHOSTS SLEEP

I can’t help where I go in my sleep

Into the damp paving slabs of a different city

Up your moss clogged gutters

To suckle the smoky spit from the concrete

Of your sill

Wait by the window you will open to breathe

Wind my way inside your nostrils,

Down your windpipe

A snake in possession of your insides

Or sit beside you

Mouthing wordless songs

Settle into the warmth of your bedsheets

To await your return

I wonder if you do the same with me

An infinity

Of you within me within you within me

We don’t coach journey here

We travel by submarine

Arrange to meet just before unconsciousness

Where the Ocean takes us

Back to back staring out at monsters

Rippling behind glass

Daylight hanging before fangs

Whales the size of Regent Street

And sharks shining like wet Birmingham concrete

MY SKULL IS A BURIAL GROUND

 

Somewhere in the dank forgotten

There are things the worms

Are too afraid to digest yet,

Things that didn’t deserve a gravestone.

Every day is a haunting

 

I don’t know how to love the ghosts

That cling to my ribcage,

And leave nightly kisses

With their nail-biting lips:

Crescent moon gifts

Bouquets of bruises.

The shadows have fingers

Bent backwards into prayers

I think I’m supposed to answer.