In Defence of Intimate Friendships

I note the sharpness of coral

pigeon feet on the dark rain

saturated tarmac.

I catalogue futility and hope;

my chin dripping, hands fuzzy

against olive green.

you: a cat’s toe beans.

the fullness of the city is rich

like ground oil pigments.

second-hand clothes squeeze

out from the faded histories

of past owners,

and into mine.

you hold me in Chinatown

among stiff deathless plants

and thick rain. you reify

lightness: a dolphin, smooth

and skimming.

my wrist: the foamy current.

you love me. you buy a book

on Sappho. you remember

being zipped up on another

dark tarmac night,

wind splashing

up the sides of the tower,

a pummelled cliff face.

your cheek.

you say: you’re easy to love.

I cry at menus and long queues

and in your neck

like an exorcism.

I am interested in celebrating my daily interactions, and documenting moments of everyday beauty.