BENEATH AN EYELID
Last trains curve through our mist, buildings lift chins above us, planes circle, hypnotised. The river is a misshapen question, we answer, waking, white air, the love beneath an eyelid. Our molecules crush against pale ether; our songs float on water, fill culverts, push against the scarp. All night we protect the rocks, hide them in our sleeves; and when sunrise wakes us, we lift from earth. I'm floating above the bed, beside you, in a half-dream light shines into. My ears are filled with sounds — lungs expanding, the river expelling life. There are shapes hidden below our skin and each morning I remember you as clearly as blood remembers a vein. Love is cellular, in the sky, and you are still beside me. We will rise and move into the day, encased…