Sharlie Goddard

How do I know when
I hold a daisy
That the petals will say that he loves me?
I will pluck them off in twins and triplets if it
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Standing at the cliff edge,
I must lean against the wind
To test its strength.
Will it hold me?
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I hold in my hand a stone,
That has never been held.
Among a million
I singled it out
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Our tremendous orb turns it face toward the sun
And we bathing in it, shed our clothes,
Plant our toes,
Long hair flows
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Here comes the summer
Out of the blue in monochrome,
Crochets and quavers on telephone wires
Gathering
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A splash of exuberant colour
Chasing thoughts around a page
Rounded swirls
Chaotically whipping up the waves
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As I watch
It gives birth.
Violently budding.
...

Could this blaring box
Hold more company than
A person?
Each little internal bead of colour
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What was I before
Birth?
An entity?
Corporeal.
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I am here
You are there.

I want to be alone
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Whilst out running
I noticed white
Caught in the branches of a blackthorn hedge.
At first I thought it was a plastic bag.
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Wistful words
Hang in a frosted air,
Hopeless things uttered
Sharding a trust.
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Your arrive by post, ordered on-line.
Do you know that you are condemned?
No, of course not.
You were born in a clinical environment.
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