1675 c/o Susie Anderson

THERE IS A CATHEDRAL SHAPED HOLE IN MY MEMORY OF YOU

it starts in the summer --
in hiding, in trees, long nights. glow in the dark eyes
searching for limbs, the darkness
smelling of cider and heavy warmth

plans to disappear in autumn
not telling anyone for months.
drafts of a text message that says
'good morning, ily. i am alone in the world',
waving at what actually happened from the shore.

writing directions, writing phone numbers.
making somebody's mind up,
eavesdropping and ordering.
stealing and giving back glances,
developing upwards inflections in the cold.

then spring, doors and limbs creaking together,
rooms filling with wayward pigeons
collecting hourly under ancient beams.
we extradite them by hand --
your nice hands, your nice lips.

another summer, 1675,
we lay the first stone at st paul's together.
long nights and glowing human beings,
eyes searching for other eyes
open under stars, cidery and smelling the warm