Some people need a catalyst

like the sun basking a meadow

like the slow, noble head of a cow

raising her eyes to the moon

beauty isn’t everywhere, but

it does creep, pry and sneak

under covers

my girl gets

as hot and soft as proved bread

a cream fall

a silk disaster of flesh

I throw the covers off myself

too hot

head to the window

crack it, the dream catcher begins

a jerky

night-long dance

Luke, she says

you’ve left the blind up

mnh

Luke I want a lie in tomorrow…

silence

Oh my god you’re a PRICK

Kneaded dough suffers upwards gripped by sleep

shuts the blind…

and I suppose I am, really

but in the still morning she apologised

Sometimes you need the sun

spring sun

to realise anything at all

Tired Blinds was published in issue #33 of Belleville Park Pages, which you can find here

Image by Hugo Jones