of my

but I can close eyes and listen to the
rain
in bed or in the kitchen or walking somewhere
close eyes and listen

and I’m under a big black beautiful
wing
there’s a heartbeat steady and full of unspoken
beats in time with mine

so what does it look like? the church of my
built
of steady stone, of stone below,
around, of panels, of old wooden

a smell that covers
soft thud of silence
red velvet curtains
door just soul size

(First published in nthposition)

What do you think?