edgeways winter white-mouthed streetlamps waver
the keys in my pocket like anxieties rattle their skins against each other
a smattering of fireworks clinking against the fragment moon far-off dinner plates
the road curls like spilt milk into a solid vein of white
hollow-tongued as the lantern in the chinese takeaway upside down
I feel their golden emptiness and the unheard alarm behind glass everything must go like summer and the couple kissing in an alley’s cradled fist
I too then am elsewhere the evening is a silent ghost searching,
Words by Helena Aeberli. Art by Eloise Fabre.