Mach

 If every heart was

Told, in theirs were a heaven elfed

So deep, that then a pure

Angelwhite would only once half a blushing red moon, that petal blitz 

To twice sink the ever earthless ankle sway

Of a bloodless maroon

Slowly dancing in the rush of constellae

They would only

Grow centaurs to mark their bodies in that silence of ash

Happy pulse of one, with their eyes rashing in the charm of mutiny

 To pretty sill the rabidity of mooring orphan dogs.

They would grow heavens in the swell

Of their earrings 

Make them so blue 

So 

Sanitine

If only

You’d just cry,  

Or mirth in an undergrowth of your hazel watch 

To solvate all crystals that gnaw on your senseless unborn silk,

To undo beauty

And make it flow alkaline

In every

Glass

Perplex

Now

Your mother wraps you, that skim

Of  white paper mach ocean trail

Swansea like the gorge of

A purple lush that you’d wear

That colour of earth

Making them so pitch

So

Rhizome