Absolutely motionless in air; the sleeping flyer.
A plane made from bed bunks with flannelette wings.
To feel love’s cool breath blow fragrant breezes
across a summer picnic – Tupperware and tartan blankets.
Crisp glasses of sparkling on a balcony at midnight.
The distant thump of a party on the horizon
while a campfire makes firecrackers from twigs.
Turning to marshmallow in his biscuit embrace.
Lord, give me grace. May fineness sprinkle
like cornflour over my eyelids.
Give me spirit to enter this place.
I’ll lick clean the boots of love.
I’ll bury myself to the neck
and pray to you for sustenance.
Mouth open to receive rain; that I might swallow