izzy

swans have been making out on rooftops since 1989
it’s just a coincidence that’s the year between when you and I were born
still nobody knows how they get up there
I mean, they can fly, we know they can fly,
but it’s the landing without a thud –
they do it so gently

*

sarah

I am sitting on the midnight train
Thinking about people who fall in love with people on public transport
And how I am not one of them
When my eyes drift over to the girl a few seats over
Whose dark hair is so greasy it looks wet
She’s got a complexion like a battlefield
And her eyeliner is sweated and smudged across her eyes onto her nose
She looks like the sort of person your mother would take three steps to avoid
She looks like a right royal mess – and yet
She’s got these lips
Pressed in right over the arch of her chin
And these lips are just masterly
These are the sort of lips that painters would swoon over
These are lips for carving in plaster
Lips for daubing in oils
And right now, they’re curved into this little half smile
At whatever she’s reading in the free train paper
I am staring now, open-mouthed
But she doesn’t even notice
And I see that she’s got both sides of her nose pierced
On the left, a ring, on the right a stud
A buck both ways
And she’s crinkling up her forehead in disbelief at an article
Which is adorable
And every now and then she mouths a word
With those sucker-punch lips
And I’m praising this train for stopping all stations
This city loop is closing tight around my chest
And I’m snagged

*