Have you seen the Lost Boys?

forty four. ajar

i untwine like the greens and pinks
which bound the hay bails in summer:
the spikes of thistle did not bother me;
they were all a part of it. you unwind
my fists, soften the barbs of my claws:
it is the deepest tenderness that laces,
twines your fingers in mine; a brushed
thigh, palm to the hip, squeeze and press
of lemon drops in june.
you rewind until i croon your name like a baby
and say maybe, we ought not —
but we had tied knots over it already,
in a baby blue of bailer twine that is you,
(an opened mouth: )a shuddering echo
of cut clover, a hornet stopped on the stairs,
(my wrists pressed firmly to the mattress)
the lavender of the washing line and
the glare of the granite steps up to the front door —
(the sirens and engines of cars below your window)
it was all entwined, meshed
as the chicken wire of the gate left ajar :

(29/01/2018)