Listening

In the night when it rains, I wrap myself around you for extra warmth, rock to the drumming of your breathing, the windswept landscape of your dreams. How young you look. Tiny holes in time where the stars fall out and they have to break up the moon to make new ones. UFOs hovering.

I’d like to be kidnapped by you, to have no forwarding address. Just leave the breakfast on the table, the coffee going cold. Walk out into a golden morning, stand on a hill with the sea stretched out a blanket below us and the whole day free from interference. I lie with my hand on your chest, tuning in to the tapping of your heart. Trying to learn its secret rhythm, the other places that you go. I’m knocking on your forehead with my clumsy questions. Your mysterious bruises, the way grief catches in your throat.

I’d like to curl up inside you. Float in the waves of your skin, shoot stars across your eyes. Take long walks through the corridors of your lungs, and find every door unlocked.

Aoife Mannix