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Love is a Burnt Out Candle

This poem is another more recent one, freshly typed up from my notebook. I realised that it’s been a while since I wrote something (vaguely) positive, so I sat down and wrote this. It just sort of came out.

 

love

is a burnt-out

candle

at four o’clock

in the morning

 

when the aeroplanes

fall from the sky

and the busses

break down

and the trains

roll off the rails

and the cars

drive at ninety

on the motorway

 

and the angels

tell little kids

what their future is

and the devils

get drunk

at open mic nights

 

and the pianos

go out of tune

when you play

the first note

of a lonely

sonata

 

and the snakes

dance on glass

while the rats

get their tails

in a tangle

 

and the boats

come home

and smash themselves

upon the rocks

and the sailors

fill up their caps

with saltwater

 

and the people

walk down boulevards

with melting ice cream

in their hands

 

and the smokers

burn their lungs

on tobacco plants

as the air turns cold

and starts to laugh

at them

 

and the birds

break their wings

on the barriers

at the park and ride

while numberplates

are snapped in half

and discarded

 

and the poets

drink themselves

into semi-psychosis

and they throw their pens

into the harbour

 

and the stomachs

twist

and wrap around themselves

and the legs

collapse

and fold

away

 

and love

is a stick

of incense

 

and life

is a dream

we keep

living

Published inPoetry

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