Air.

January 25, 2013

Cool as,
balmy in Summer,
frozen in Winter
with needles
like diamonds
of asbestos.
Smelling of kitty litter,
to put it politely.
Indoor heated.
Fragrant.
Hibiscus scented.
For Sale;
more expensive when surrounded by a
five bed townhouse,
than a two bed end terrace.
Easily explained by a weather diagram.
Colder at one
end of the kitchen
than the other.
Easy to hold
in one or two
palms of your hand.
See through.
Walking down London Road,
frequency of fried chicken.
Cycling through fields,
radiogram of a thousand florists,
lush, dense, swaying sunflowers.
Silky, precious, miraculous, necessary,
a matter of concern
in a hermetically sealed hostage situation.
Running out of my lungs
when I try to take
my unfamiliar body for a run.
The same in the lungs of my lover
as in the ordinary capillaries
of my worst enemy.
All there is between us.
Though there is no guarantee.

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