Friday, 13 August 2010


Craning my head at a forty five degree angle
And standing in the middle of the back lane
Looking for match strikes against the night;
Catching a flash
In the corner of my eye,
A tearing of sky,
And unsure whether I’d moved too soon
And smeared a star’s mark,
Or whether it was a spark of dust
Pushing the atmosphere nearer.

Uncertain if the world had been hit by residual
Bits of a greater comet’s journey or if I’d just
Learned to see what I wanted;
Either way I wished
Upon its passing
And threw desire
Vast distances to bid for its attention;
My petition worded perfectly
Before another could enrol its gifts
On behalf of their own lists.

For you I proofed my heartfelt future hopes
Before these universal coins and stayed
A little longer to be certain they’d been heard,
And when another flint
Struck at the planet’s tinder
I sent a second
Mention for my son to hang his name upon,
Then came inside to see him sleep
And rest myself as peacefully as
Promises are possible.

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