i’m dreaming of a little brown horse I love which died
i’m dreaming of a bright day in which he strolls back into my life
cracks me on the skull with the lethal underside of his jaw
worries with his rubber lips the front of my shirt
and comes down systematic snapping off the buttons
spitting each one out

back then there was nothing going on under there
now it might be that he’d be surprised
and hopefully in a good way

it looked a day like any other:
the plane trees whispered same old same old
and july came hot off the fat arch road
i went to the co-op to buy food for my dog
and it looked a day like any other until
the cashier plucked the box from my basket
and looking every word into my eyes said
‘i love you and i want to marry you’
i was surprised at how deep in me each word landed
‘i might not make a good wife’ i said wanting time
‘why?’ he asked his sweet head angled as he spiralled the Baker’s Choice
the tumbling biscuits shouted applause
‘i’d probably do my own thing a lot of the time’
he smiled like that was already given
‘every time I came in you’d have to give me a discount’
with a lazy arm he caught a card which hung from the till
and i watched the numbers plummet
‘think about it’ he said
on the way home the biscuits rattled
and the plane trees whispered
and i thought about it and one of the thoughts said why not ?
let’s live a little

rain takes my face in both her hands
says see ?
i do almost and then i don’t
see what ? playing here for time
rain laughs
way the hush comes
way the leaves come
the way when you come
writing this down
words aren’t
and this isn’t
can you see it ?
i’m trying i tell her
rain laughs
shakes out her wet hair allover me
says
stop

look at the cows my soul said
someone’s got to do the fat work of sitting in clover

day is dark
and wind blows greasy low
across apples slumped in rotted grass
the sun isn’t bothered
by last night’s bottles
sentinel row of sour mistakes
i’m sat here at the table
nosing into soul
this is not the worst i’ll feel today
it doesn’t matter though
and none of it matters
as somewhere on the other side of the world
standing upsidedown
there’s you
dark beautiful
holding out your arms for the stars

making something always
making sense
stitching the woman who served my lunch
rice or potatoes ?
onto my dog’s face the second time i left
sewing that onto tomorrow
and again onto my dog’s soft eyes
that onto next year
and a man i once loved
onto all of these feelings
coming and going and some staying longer

sometimes
in the soft bowl of evening
i hold it up
my sewn together map
screw up my eyes
see if i can read it
see if i’ve made sense yet