The bleak, blushes of dusk. A Highland wind
licks at a heart, wrapped in leaves.
Buried beneath a pine cone, needles.
...
Andrew James Murray is a writer and poet from Manchester, England. He has been published in various anthologies and publications, including Best Of Manchester Poets.)
Midnight, July
We writhe
with a rage to know
the unknowable,
blind to great masses
that dance in dark orbits.
And a soft, summer wind
on a night beneath stars
is no balm.
From somewhere a whistle
casts a line,
a fragile camaraderie
in a world
fell silent,
where white moth-wing
is riotous
and a spider's touch
carnal.