23 May 2011


We never should have walked across the heath to Keats’ house.
You never should have read his letter to his star while breathing next to me.
We never should have bought two winter postcards, I his watercoloured frail face,
you his sweetheart silhouette.

Now I watch you sleep I see a death mask.
I watch you hard enough I fancy life.

2 comments:

... said...

allniceweepy

Chris said...

Great bed!