Last night the sky was obliterated.

Last night your mouth said one thing
and your breasts said another.

Last night we cooked up fish.

Last night the bass from 2 doors along
clashed with my own pulse.

Last night was filled with horsebones.

Last night was filled with temptation.

Last night; books remained unread,
the journal remained unwritten.

Last night we talked in the adverts
and skirted around ourselves.

Last night the cupboard contents engaged
in their daily miracle of becoming washing up.
The reversal is a task for Sisyphus,
rolling the stone.

Last night the devil in one eye,
a narrative in the other.

Last night. Light the candles. Flavour the room.
Move the walls closer. Tread the carpet.
Place knives down on the table, touch the bakelite years.
Dull clunk. Entering.