For Saffie

For Saffie-Rose Roussos

Lamp in paperfields
and in the sky, a compression of long halls.

Do you know how sudden you are
how sad? Sadness being air
or soft fly of a thing
over dark houses.

The sad dying voice of the bird
is my dying voice

We are the poem – Look
our heads, tongues
drag with the old clock.

This is how it has to be.
The shadows dancing on the eaves
know our trick

of being one thing
Bird

when you lower the lamp
of your voice
my mouth rises to its light,
I dilate under your finger-tones,

if you fall the moon will step down
and hold you close.

First published Ink, Sweat and Tears 2016 

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