23 January 2013


spoken when I speak

written when I write

lived when I am living

the air opens above me

only breath is mine

the wind whose hair is combed

whose hair is in the shadows

valleys, carparks, ravines

sharp with sunlight

the turning of one horizon

to one, to one

to one who turns

you see those deep and steep

falling away into darkness

depths unknowable now

even though walking

you have walked them

steps a passage you have taken

to a height

it makes you dizzy to look down

deep bright days

nights you called out to me

because the duvet was off

because the fever made you cold

because everything was messy

a mess of what was in the room,

what was in the world,

all the people

and what was


a gap

a shut door

a gap that goes down

to the bottom of a world

the gap of one horizon

open to one

to one who turns

and taking

a hand

a kind face between your hands

in whoever’s eyes

whose loving face you turn to

see those far off for

you open and undefended

places of air

unreachable ever

only here

a breath away

vanishing into a mist

made more of laughter than tears

because we can never take anything seriously

and there can never be enough love

for you

to me

there was one

who is two

now three

uncountable horizons

to the numberless last

who is one

once more

rounded by one

only the breath is mine

to give

because I look down

and the deep has risen

to meet me

as it will rise

to meet you

with its uncountable horizons

crossings beyond number

and the air will open

above you.

[for M.,

on her 21st birthday]