I have sorted through

the dusty corners

stirred spider web memories

to flutter and spiral

around us

Amongst the stained dog-eared

leaflets of time

beneath crumpled yellowing

news clip cut-outs

with graining pictures of

faces best forgotten

lest we forget

I found

and found

and kept finding

a word

a phrase

a single line scrawled

across the page

There are fuchsias in the attic

growing up between the floorboards

creeping to the filtered half light

streaking through shingle gaps

reaching

beseeching

clawing for the simple warmth

of sun

Your

shadow is moving

sideways across

the nailed packed boxes

darkening old photos

to slither slide

and creep up my thigh.

When your

face is against my throat

I will not speak

yet the sound

will cross from me to you

in vibrations

to make skin ripple

to make flesh dimple

to offer resurrection

of creation

We crave and

are not craven.

A glint in fist

the point sharp

you wrap a wrist around mine

and whisper

push it

Together

we thrust truth into my eye

And wait