So keen is my desire, this night of black,
this Watermill night; so dark is my brain,
meditating on strands where the shine
of your hair left an indelible stain.

I followed shadows through Watermill today.
In a hardware store I saw your body lose
its elemental glue. Your arms
became paintbrushes, your fingers screws.

Your components were sorted in bins.
Your tongue licked Molly bolts. I put
one in my pocket. I rolled the metal
in my palm. It felt hot.

I wish a bolt could gash a pocket's lining.
I wish it could sever a vein.
I wish I'd stolen a knife
to protect myself from you then.

At the water's edge I saw footprints
that could have been yours. I sank to my knees.
Seagulls rose in codified waves
when I kissed sand that kissed your feet.

The sand warms the dust that stirs in me
when a pillow becomes a face;
when walls confine desperation;
when Watermill sends its ghost again.