By Greta Bellamacina
Your big news in my heart
I expect your hate it,
passed out treeskin kisses
a clung bouquet, a whole choircord,
a midwife of the weather pushed inside
old systems that could just be left.
Relaxed bullet ankles in climbed out glares,
make for sudden seconds of colours
decorating your fossil inland eyes
that have made me reckless this time
not agile but collapsed,
cocked in lakewater.
right though the thought of no dying
in the look of sticks which are slightly unrun over
made for the leisure of knees and sub-shadows
uncollected by a jury of things which could be like heaven.
I took you this time
astrayed and incapable
not able to confirm til…
the high gulls dropped you finally
this time blaming the way I pray,
dreams of ail turned blue still
Greta has written poetic text for the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition and released her own collection called Kaleidoscope in 2011. She has edited A Collection of British Love Poetry available from Fortnum’s, £20.