the poets' garden

If love came back now,

it would find the house abandoned.

It would knock softly. It would call my name.

It would stand in the garden long after dark,

listening to the leaves drag over stone.

But grief lives there now,

having changed the locks while I slept.

Every floorboard answers to its weight.

Sometimes I think one honest confession from you

could still unbar the windows.

Instead, dust drifts through the late afternoon,

soft as snowfall.

The mirrors forget their purpose,

Of all my memories, and what’s happened to me

Why do I keep these things locked away

Why are they kept in dark rooms, alone

If I am a museum of these things

I want them all on display

The broken pieces of a heart

That doesn’t exist anymore

Put together with missing fragments

A hollow ornament of yesterday

For all to see why I love the way I do now

Because of how I loved and lost before

The open book of thoughts and memories

On a pedestal for all to read, to explore

To better understand me

All the parts of who I was

Who I had to kill, gravestones marked

With my name in different fonts

In row after row of death after death

With me standing at the end

If I am a museum of all these things

I want them all on display, for all to see

I won’t charge a cent, my experience is free

But to know me now, to walk with me

There is in fact, a tremendous fee

For if I am a museum for you to see

I expect to see yours too

For you to be true

For your museum to be open

For me

.

You are my joy in life

You are the song I will never forget

My love, my partner, my wife

You are my reason for waking

My reason for carrying on

You brighten my world

When reality burns

Pommel To my head. The dream begins:

Two shadows in a Seemingly perpetual dance — Till the dream Comes to an abrupt

End.

Materialized, She stands, asking The only question to which I have Ever had a definitive Answer.

The dream Recommences:

Two fencers in an open field.

And I

Dodge, Step, Twirl, Smile, Wave, Bow,

Flinch, Leap, Laugh, Taunt, Feint, Block,

Step Back;

See her, Defence- Less:

"What Do You Want?"

Riposte.

Dream And Reality Merge.

My blade / My finger:

I pierce Her heart With a Single Point.

it's not some sort of defect

at the tunnel's end

keep on looking straight ahead

and imagine the end point.

.

...

We will mix with leaves

And our salt will harm flowers

That miss our lost smiles.

If only we'd shed tears less;

The garden would serve for years.

...

Andi Leigh

Photo credit: Eleanor Chua.

For a touch that won't come.

While the world slept

I dreamt of desires

Sinking deeper into their secrets.

I coveted all that I could

While leaving so much of me

That I never thought I would.

Through the realms of possibilities

I closed my eyes and prayed.

Where were you to guide my destiny

While I waited to fade away.

Your eyes could answer that question

Flecked with hopes and dreams

Twinkling cascades of promises made

And kept before they close

A thousand sparkling moments

Full of love, full of joy

Whats behind the stars?

Soft lips pursed, waiting

Eager fingers grasping at eternity

And endless heartbeats matching the rhythm

Between the galaxies in my chest and yours

Filling the void between seconds

With everything we’ve waited for

What’s behind the stars?

A bath, pure and sweet scented

Cleansing our flesh from the grimy work

Before we soothe one another

Bubbles drifting heavenward

Popping only to release the fantasy

Of flying hand in hand eternally

Behind the stars

.

dark evers

this future

now

skinned and stranger fed

your name like mine

crying

breath and blood denied

our eyes and tongues

gulls soar grey against grey over the vast ocean of car park

one day I will be fine

flood lights shine white light despite the sun clouds build up high towers pressure piles on

I want to forget

when it's time to work roll up my sleeves to hide where rain has dampened fabric

too late to pretend I don't care