Friday, 25 November 2011

#11: The Hole In The Ceiling

For Jo and Rich

At first it was neglible - about the size of a sparrow's skull -
and Penny called me a twat for even mentioning it
when the estate agent showed us round.
Some sort of shimmering dust was falling in a bright cascade.
'What's that?' I said,
and the estate feigned ignorance,
looked at me like I had bought my senses an ice lolly
then abandoned them on a beach.

Soon, there was no ceiling. We lay in bed,
salted with pixie sand,
beneath a whirling multidimensional void
that I could see through my eyelids.
Lightning banged across its heartache reaches.
The stitches in my shoulder itched and fizzled.

No comments:

Post a Comment