A Pocketful of Rusty Stars
It was a hell of a night.
I woke up with a pocketful
of rusty stars,
wearing a denim jacket.
A guy called Jacob
asked me to call him
an Uber with a Sat Nav
back to previous night.
I sighed, breathing out
fire-engine rose petals,
caught in bay hair
as he lay cat stretched
on a February sunbeam.
I asked about my envelope,
an origami bird unfolded
as if the stars were mine.
He nodded slowly “We all need
a patina to know ourselves.”
____________
Valentine’s Day
Fuck
Valentines…
The only
heart
I want
is my own,
returned
in the same
envelope
I posted,
long ago
before
I knew me.
