Without
by Claire Scott
The future is
furling
its wings
too tired to
soar close
to the sun
to sweat in
a tangle
of arms
& legs &
lips &
tongues
what is left
after bodies
no longer
are we buddies
colleagues
friends
with no benefits
do we drag
our drooping
feathers in
the unhoured
hours
while orange
ghosts whisper
orange words
remember?
can brittle bones
lean together
bare birds
on Winter branches
can frayed edges
find the familiar
a touch, a smile
a memory of
white wine &
twisted sheets
who are we
without