Stonewall – Timothy Fitzgerald

Like an eighties track

The city lent me 

Groceries in front

I skip hot oxford

On the fortnight hour

Green spores are silhouettes

Dogs

Cats 

Birds

Circling empty rooms in a terrace house

I dream a skyscraper 

For your breath to blow down

Beams and mortar are apple crumble

A crunchy-sweet mess

With blonde hair

Not thick

Well

Or full of you

The drip runs your mouth

Wet electric

Fizzle-pop candy 

Haunt space

Her voice synthesized

A cultivated perm 

On the water edge

The happy stone 

Like an eighties track

The city lent me