Image by Pech Frantisek from Pixabay
In Every House Nobody Sleeps
nocturnal out here in wild escape the gauzy texture of extreme heat Walthamstow and Leyton beyond arguments sheltered by hedgerows swallowing benches we know it’s light pollution smouldering the East London fresco but think this stifling haze an aureole draped over commons scorched but open it’s just a bit of debris you say edging closer to the breathing mass saint to an angel equal parts trepidation and awe knowing to touch a thing is to ruffle its world stippled as a skyline in your torch pin-dropped in this strip not jammed against blades or mauled unmendably but snuffling still touched by light before commuting into the undergrowth we whis- per I love you small companion burnt by business as usual