Turn Left at Burnt Coffin and Follow the Silence

Rag-and-bone man sells wilted flowers
for graveside manners
picnic blankets beside tombs

As refugees of misted lands
rambles of shingled memories
breast coasts with words left unspoken

Travelling orbs are flecks of dust,
palm reading and astrology  
guessing of sight’s second coming,
even the blind man knows his way home

Always coming back
to kitchen aroma
bodies of paperback spine
mouths wept tales of Romany…..

If you could see me now,
a full embalmment away from
the vodka-corpsed cymru lost,
Wrapped those paper hearts
Into wreaths and sewage sunk

This coffee cup stirs an eye for silence
spoons burden from hollowest crucifix,
soon there won’t be enough soil to bury
so we’ll build skyscrapers of ash and bone

If you could see me now,
we’d peel songs from choirs of our lips
string never-played symphonies across
karaoke bomb shelters,
where you sheltered me when it rained

As Was When  
I hear you singing