Snapshot

a.
cat-scratched blind;
I cede my waned moon lenses
lost prone upon his floor
I think, besides my senses.

b.
I painted hair sky blue,
bleached life from it:
I died

yet find my redhead mother
watching from my mirrors
I stare her down, but I blink first
I thirst for her: deny.

c.
Then fright, is he behind,
is he inside
is he, will he define me?
I see her;
find him in her
and know (not) what to do.

d.
sit lonely now, spark matches, sulphur sweet -
and hope I am as strong as people claim.
Do I know who you think I am, do you?
for I recognise her less than any else
and still avoid my mirrors.

e.
I lose myself with you,
is this allure? Strung out on you
I am racked up, keen softly
in something aping love, but more.
Trash sentience, renounce control
read in your dialect, I am
am not. No more.

f.
the Creek deflates;
the tendrils of a mighty exhale snake
their way back to the Thames.
I burn my cigarettes, and surface watch
scared of what lies beneath
scared of the mud that lies -
the swans have left, but in the mulch
the stoic Creek weeds thrive.