for two days you slept
slat folded
skin bony limbs
flat pointed
In that library of my loss
In that sketchbook of my sleep
in that bed that’s hardly mine
you held a hot hand in a firm grip
peaced and loveful after months slow bruising
batteries in shock
you, spokenword and in- joke
found it hard to walk away

Flat packed
found it hard to hug me bye
grey gaunted

by Helen Shanahan