Laura Potts – Sweet Autumn

1 minute read

Sweet Autumn

And years later, you at the bus stop.

Yesterday’s leaves in your hair.

The seat where we laughed.

Our words in the air.

Sweetheart. The years threaded up

our names scratched on the glass.

Rain argued away the grass-stained

fingerprints, the love turned over

on clumsy tongues, the moonbows,

the flimsy suns. My skin soft-tossed

in sheets, hard-kissed. The taste

of your words. The clench of my fist

in the deafening dawn. Oh day,

when the pavement rolled beneath

our feet. Bubblegum from the shop.

My Monet mouth, your Friday chips –

Stop. Darling, how we used to crease

at the waist. Pink and white laughter

poured from our lips. And when I meet

you at the curb of my sleep it is when

we were here, my heart in your hands,

your hands on my dress. They said you

spilt your filth down telephone wires.

Cheap love. Sex. I wouldn’t know.

I walked away. Like this. Yes.

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