Love as a Folded Newspaper




I wrote this today, I think I’ll work on it – but here’s a draft.



Supernova (I have some concerns)

To M, everything I never said at the time.


namely gravity

black hole men skull-fucking the universe

I am careful not to talk too much of stars        (to you)

people always talk too much about stars                   (around you)

but when you talked of being ‘spit-roasted’ on your 25th birthday

I had some concerns


namely the gravity of the situation,

bringing two strangers

the kind who reach up for obligation

nestled between the Weetbix and pasta

on the top shelf of entitlement

not needing a leg up or chair


mainly bring them into the house we shared

at 2am I felt an octopus arm in my bed

“I’m just saying hello”

with slithering fingers

he pulls out         the drawers holding utensils

instruments of force    a ladle to scoop

the threat of violence

down my throat so that I am gagged from screaming

I stand in a galaxy of open kitchen drawers

he was looking for a bottle opener

I dream this

I have some concerns.


Agendas and coke mainly

star matter around your nose         the cheek biting

rapid fire speech about how the moon

controls the waves

which controls our menstrual cycles      controls the vibrations

that twist and turn        into wars    into pregnancies. Everything

could have been solved

by Neil Armstrong

had the space race actually been won.


I have some concerns            but

they turn to stardust in your hands

and the comet trail on the mirror goes on snorting you     bleeding

out your nose     white and red


I have some concerns


your supernova.