Electric shadows
visit the flat, with popcorn.
The girls cut melon
in the kitchen. I get dressed
and join them. Sit next to him.
I learn what he likes,
and who (Ross is his favourite.)
How when he was small
a young God told him there are
only perfect intentions.
Actors converse for
us. I wear glasses for sub-
titles and faces
and if the nights were cold here
the hairs on our arms might touch.
We started picking
films my flatmates didn’t like.
Who do you love? Who
do you love? You love a car.
It flew backwards. He returned
with something ‘marmite’
love and life. The lady said
the prisons are full,
the zoos are overflowing,
the world dearly loves a cage.
I write that one down.
All around us living things.
Another one saved.
He liked that. Couldn’t believe
all the things I hadn’t seen
so he sent me clips
of best bits, blips, and trailers
a moving phrasebook
where I learned to speak to him.
Anything for my princess,
he said. Except that
when he left he took his discs.
I’m left with Netflix.
Piper says she’ll do to me
what Pablo Neruda does
to the Cherry trees.
I call him but words shrink things
down to episodes,
to pieces that start and end
in basically the same place.