izzy

the clouds below are rolling off into a sky-high horizon
like they’re trying to be a tundra
why on earth would the clouds want to mimic the earth and ice?
I think
but then I think, maybe it’s not the sky mimicking the tundra
but the tundra trying to be like clouds, wanting to be full of light and air
lifted and secret and inaccessible from below
I want to go to the biggest glacier with you.
the man in front of me has the most beautiful salt and pepper hair
thick and wavy, with the whites spread evenly among the dark greys
he could be in an ad for salt and pepper hair
I would definitely buy it I think
it’s reminding me of the few grey hairs on your head
they are still spread out and surprising little shocks of silver
like that day when we kept giving each other electric shocks every time we touched
and couldn’t figure out why
I think it was me dragging my feet on the department store carpets
but I still like to think it was you, electric, wide-eyed and real and really there
doing something as mundane as sharing the escalator with me
in the same geographic location, in the same physical space
bursting with electrons or whatever and I wanted to touch you even then
I want to see every hair on your head turn white
the idea of growing old has never been appealing to me
trimming our hair and nails forever as our ears and noses outgrow our faces
and the rest of us slowly disintegrates
recently I have been finding reasons to grow old
it’s terrifying to have a reason to want this plane to stay aloft
begging the invisible strings holding it suspended not to snap

*

sarah

i.

Can’t you see how marvellous it is that you and I came to be here?
Have you no wonder left in those tired grey eyes?
Ours is a miraculous love, never to be repeated, not in a million years
The whole universe had to be created just so I could hold you

ii.

The day you died I felt a funny old thrill in my guts after I got off the phone
Thought ‘This is it! This is the first! I’ve imagined this for years!’
And then I stepped into the shower and burst into tears as swift as a punch
Stopped just as quickly, stood quietly in the low-pressure trickle of wet
And thought about how you’d never be warm again

*