Thursday 6th January 2011, A. Palmer
The night sky: a silky duvet
to tuck us into our embankment bed.
Cloudless, it was perfect
for throwing parties in.
Warmed by nattering logs,
our smoked hair housing red,
glowing spittle, we gaped
at the glittering flowers sowed above the waste bin.
In the distance, a chorus
of admiration was cut out completely
by the whistle of a missile.
An animal urge to run for cover
dissolved as a shower
of diamond confetti neatly
rained upon our napkin nuptials.
I’d need never write another.
Then came the Big One,
the one we’d all been waiting for.
As it popped its dust upon our sheets,
you kissed me softly upon my neck.
A thrill like that can kill a man you know.