from the four corners and silence of the room outside the window, a February thaw – a letter to your lips and your hands dearest raindrops like music on the glass door –
it’s so far to you and so bitter, it’s too much, over fields over sky, I’m drowning in twilight and blue smoke like the poplars in the fog at the roadside
maybe I should go into town and spot trains passing through the station and look at myself in the puddles they are deeper than washbasins –
a letter to you about everything to you dearest about love and about cold tea about a walk with the moon in our hair about all that can’t be
from the four corners and silence of the room outside the window, a February thaw – a letter to your lips and your hands dearest raindrops like music on the glass door –
it’s so far to you and so bitter, it’s too much, over fields over sky, I’m drowning in twilight and blue smoke like the poplars in the fog at the roadside
maybe I should go into town and spot trains passing through the station and look at myself in the puddles they are deeper than washbasins –
a letter to you about everything to you dearest about love and about cold tea about a walk with the moon in our hair about all that can’t be
