mmmcxxxii

hot springs

we lift our heads from off our pillows
as houses fall of their freeways we
breathe both liquid and solid we’re
flush with brickwork that’s like life
down a long corridor of sound
all rapt and fumbling for a spigot

our minds drop and bow of heart
our heart however is nothing
but embarrassed of this altitude
our mouths are full of soap cured
by concertina (a habitat warped
by longing) long mouths filled

with drowning trucks that sting
our eyes to hear such a heap of
sopped nothing – to tuck one
coil carefully into the pile of
glass that we saw fall like light
out of sky when we ran the

water too hot down the frozen
pane of the bedroom window