by Glenn McPherson

Escaping light like a torch shone
From inside the dark cavity of a skull –
The city at night.

Dreaming teeth out
And other, less satisfying anarchists
Our husband bodies

Nudge against something hard,
Harboured as they are, on calm
Waters beside strangers.

The sound of horse hooves lifting
And falling, lifting and falling to the very end
Of an ancient pier

Or perhaps it’s rats in the crawl space
Between rooms. With morning, harmonies
We abandon.

Blue stones in a blue sky –
Somebody whistling.