Skies scraped

by Christos Polydorou

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Sweetheart?
Come to bed.
The sun has set.

I have been alone today.
I made two eggs.
I prepared single cups of coffee, all day.

I have been single always.
I took pride in my solidarity.
I don’t know why, anymore.

I don’t know how.
I want to lay back, and wrap my legs
around Italy’s boot.

And hitch myself
a notch higher
than I have ever been.

See things from eagle-eye view
that I had only seen
beneath.

Defuse me.
I am floating up, to where I belong.
Like Jesus Christ, on the morning of His ascension.

Your love carries me
across cups of strawberry tiramisu,
and baked aubergines

into the neon blue
of skies scraped
open.

 

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