Inspired by Ghost Hardware by Burial.

Ovilus

It’s late, but I could take

The yellow line East to Tynemouth, Waiting in the lightened seats

To follow swallows out to sea –

Stitched stars with silent wings

As I would sit, eyes fixed on me

From faces suspended by sleights of air and flights of strings.

And out – another building

would glow under streetlights and

teeming insights of the coast –

whispers, alive, gleam beneath the sand.

The sea is a broken mother breathing sacrifice,

with ghost hardware in her eyes.