WORK IN PROGRESS

Early days.

LION-HEART

When eyes close

And lips close

And everything scatters to the wind,

The savage clouds blossom

And cold air sharpens the appetites

Of the water, swirling figures of 8,

When the burnt out cigarette

Drops from your lips

And mingles with all those tongue tied words,

You stand with your Lion-heart

At the jumping off place,

And you’re not scared

One bit.