That frightens you.

So invokes the yoga studio wall.

Today?

I am going to shut up. See you later, rather than sooner.

is the colour of it:
ecclesiastical purple
symbolic and sinister
loaded with the centuries of
punitive love.

—-

We strip back every
conversation until we say
something that is
true, 

though not yet
soluble in blood.

The residents of sector 7G
glazed hopelessly at the news,
although it had not yet announced
their plaintive Cassandra visions.
Rumours of a riot
tightened leather jackboots, creaking
as they had once heard the rope
of a swing
chirring against an ageing tree limb.
There was a little less oxygen
for all of them.

A squall of panic
swept through every room
just as the inaudible
white noise drone
of the announcement system
turned on, before the reassuring
familiar voice mechanically
called the curfew into being,
as always at nine o’clock.
Nothing ever happened,
they could not name a change,
yet still they stared at one other
across the tundras of their tables,
all wondering how they had come
to die with this person.

sometimes I miss
the complicit jigsaw
we once were
my sky to
your corner
interlocking memories
visualised

my moon,

so changeable and
such a loveable lamb
to me

thins the membrane
between you and yours
tuning you just like a drum
your heart beats higher