they will search your face as you walk by
their astute eyes like a sharp light bent in a question mark are you mine why walk up the Lanes to Churchill Square
what fun is there
on a Saturday night everything’s closed besides
Brighton lovers are everywhere
on a night like tonight
appearing right here right in front of you – just now look where the double-decker has gone in red
waving goodbye to a stocking left at our feet like a fainted black snake begging for help lovers in Brighton
they will sit in every café and bar on a Saturday night
even the forgotten one in a bistro style
where the two of us ended up
you and I in French with some hot American jazz
and Edith Piaf I was trying to sing to you and in her language because I liked you so much people must have thought you were my lover and with the two policemen kissing each other in a window display
who would deny that you were mine
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she danced
into a harder colour of time
she swirled
along that undescribed line
where hearts usually shiver out of
the excitement of thought
as if you brought
too many presents for a child
and they don’t know
where to look and what to love
she danced
from a shallow pink to a deep red
with her feet forgotten on air
with her breath bouncing lighter
her cheeks above her lips
even brighter
for a sheer happiness of a dance
performed in a wide stance
of a three year old little girl
in her ballet shoes of a muse
I am coming for you
on threads of silence
and strings
in ropes of thoughts
each loving silk
there is no haste in my walk
but peace – enough for today
it stands above
your darkened forehead
no need to panic – be still
I will tuck you in
with my warm breath fingers’ touch
velvet word and all good will
can you see
your hope’s rising like an island
on horizon for a wrecked ship …
you are in – no need to fear
