a graveyard in my mouth
filled with words that
have died on my lips.
I like the mountain. Still, but when it moves, lands shift and earth quakes.— Joseph Cook
I love you in waves,
everyday has been a hurricane.
I want you and you are not here. I pause
in this garden, breathing the colour thought is
before language into still air. Even your name
is a pale ghost and, though I exhale it again
and again, it will not stay with me. Tonight
I make you up, imagine you, your movements clearer
than the words I have you say you said before.
Wherever you are now, inside my head you fix me
with a look, standing here whilst cool late light
dissolves into the earth. I have got your mouth wrong,
but still it smiles. I hold you closer, miles away,
inventing love, until the calls of nightjars
interrupt and turn what was to come, was certain,
into memory. The stars are filming us for no one.— Carol Ann Duffy, “Miles Away”
Where exactly do you put your hands on somebody who hurts everywhere?— Charles D’Ambrosio, The Dead Fish Museum: Stories