When we are too old
for the Crossword
and the swallow comes early
singing for a lost partner
when out of season
the whip bird’s tuning fork
calls the humble circle
out of a lasso’s embrace
sky writing your name
in that opened portal
vowels and consonants
placed inside the circumference
dangling missing letters
we have chanced for canvass
a wily clue you gave me
of secrets no one knows
lexicons hesitantly shelved
the answers between us
teased into definition
out of more solitary lives
then leave all pages open
make a cuneiform mattress
out of every alphabet
graft us to our own calligraphy
the words that seek homes
can pummel for new comfort
rub against us until found
here where our language formed
First published in Bluepepper.
‘Unstill Mosaics – The Book of Love, Loss, and Longing’ Busybird 2019
‘Abandoned Soliloquies’ Uncollected Press 2019
Henri Matisse ‘Goldfish with cats’ courtesy of Art and Art Magazine
James Walton Poetry 