Skip to main content

Poem 2 - I leave this at your ear for when you wake...



I leave this at your ear for when you wake,
a seashell that sings a song as you thrash
about in your sleep – the same dream
I’ve had grasp me in our bed, when
the sun pours through the curtains
and you see them all: the world
of men-as-mass; the legions
of the undead, combing
the earth about their
usual business, whatever
it was, and you feeling like
that kid from The Sixth Sense,
and realising in the same way that
for months I’ve been dead, a ghost about
this world so wrapped up in myself I’ve lost
my head, and then birdsong, or an alarm clock
that rings as if from the heavens, and intercepts it.