navigate Love songs 1, 2

One hot mouthful of breath pressed against the page.
One warm rest set against you.
One small place alone
could you tell this from looking?
How is this recorded -
the lines of blood I see under your eyelids.
and how would it be possible for you to see these things
so delicate in gesture, almost to the point of tears.

It seems that it is in the placement of two things together, or the creases of a
blanket folded twice over.
Perhaps it is pricked in your skin, in the coolness of a room unoccupied.
strangely tied
through touch, action, breath.
This space is calm without you,
the stillness of the air returns,
the walls flatten out and attract the light.

Variations on the same theme. Bed, wall, mine, corners.
On the rippling lino,
crystallising patches of
sugar, water, light.
I think, same again. I think, house. Live, be around the place and
or, change.
Over there,
Your softly ruled lines have scraped into the paper.

Walking or driving at night.
Light moving over,
moving through.
Pools of orange light.
When the roads are more like black seas,
choppy with small waves.
Seal skin on the bitumen.
In the dark every facet reflects the light.
Oily with multicoloured scum and slick,
deep it looks but there is only surface.

Suck in
The magic is coming.
a curving slump
Hold back now,
can you see a bed of your own making.
an infinite surface ( lack of focus)
Soft crash.
The sound of an old movie punch,
man hits cabbage.
Blunt, blurred, dense
Feel it stretch out in all directions

Breathe in
the magic starts now.
Touch that shuts out the world,
making a cave for the mind.
It is in the two we go by.
Can we live in stillness ?
Lie still.
The taste of blood on my teeth.
The smell of honey in the trees.

And what is it that I say?
Kisses falling to matt your hair.
Gone to the place of calm blood.
A thousand times waiting in the dark,
rolling in the sweet smelling warm night
Alex Godillot
(inventor of the life jacket)
you and me,

Bridget Currie

blue map bloodmend