Slowly

More nonsense whilst I wait for the kettle to boil – I really need a more effective kettle, don’t I?


And the body was all lights and shadows; moving
slowly
across flesh in the half-life of existence –

the fire had died behind her,
but the smoke had curled
up into the air; it was tightening,
I could feel her in my lungs as it twisted
slowly,
into the air.

It graced the ceiling and
curled back down,
to her – she was the centre of it all.

Her hands left trails
on her skin, invisible rails
to which I felt myself attached.

She turns and bends and her flesh is silver;
it glitters in unfair scars
in the darkness,
slowly,
and it turns the world on to dawn.

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