Red earth and yellow sun and
blood pouring out my mouth.
Crisp oceans and pale eyes and
a calligraphed smile on your lips.
There was poison in your bones even then
wiring fraying inside the honeycomb labyrinth,
a minotaur stalking your blueing arteries.
I don’t know why they call a gulf yawning.
It isn’t sleepy but endlessly awake.
A cavernous emptiness. The edges
forever eating away at
the desert made of parchment dust
the colour that ink burns.
Bloodied eagle wings on my back which
I carved myself with a promethean knife,
the spaces between the broken-apart ribs almost wider
than twelve hours
A broad red land and sweeping plains,
I joke with a smile like the father of Icarus had
when his son shattered into Aegean glass
which is to say no smile
and a poor Olympian joke
to live in a hostile country with ill-tempered Sol
and yet it was your own poison meat
the cyanide of your own marrow writing bad metaphors
right into your brain.
Everyone says you were beautiful
& my girlfriend, holding my fingers
her girlfriend, grasping my palm
and you were. Ghost-thin
and empty as light,
You died in pain.