Unthinking, I drifted past your old flat,
And pulled my tendrils slowly round to feel the contours of your door,
Behind, the freezing hallway and the sometimes welcome mat,
My spores, a cloud of expectations, falling slowly to the floor.

I pulsed through the keyhole to spiral flop and overwhelm
Your lamp. Then, the soft mottle of my body upon your bed.
Are jellyfish allowed to hear? I heard you then within the realm,
Of love and remembered making love. You pushed yourself inside my head.

Brian Rutherford

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