Island written by Gavin Haycock at



written by: Gavin Haycock



you have your seat
a place of unguarded principality
rarely moving, barely there
clothed in naked apprehension
as gardens mindlessly bloom
within reach of any eye to see
                           any hand to feel
a small child woven from a womb, a warring absence
fabricated by bittersweet neglect from nearby orchards
a scar waiting anxiously for another summer to heal
never wanting creeping vines or moss to disappear
to provide respite from limb-embracing fault lines
burning their way to your fever tree crown
what might other faces ever know?
you have no desire to see or touch them
once while licking a postage stamp into icing on a paper birthday cake
I thought you didn’t have the strength to rebuke unconventional love
preferring instead to carry past fragments in a box of jewels
plastic-wrapped in cathedral cupboards in your mind
a state of suspended grace
such sunlight and collapsed conversations
bone idle prescriptions could not be tolerated
by milligram mouthfuls
flushed red with water
while only the door looked at you

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