Pick up my wings and fly
Into a constable sky
Look down on the world and try
To make you out on the distant ground
Lonely toy in a lost toy-town
Suspended in spiral sounds---
Sounds of circular breathing

I'm a kite on a silver thread
Daring lightning to strike me dead

Harsh echoes of things you said
Banished me to a thinner space
With unholy ghosts of your bedroom face
Hands cupped to my ears to place
The sound of circular breathing

Matchbox cityscape below----
I watch lowry matchstick figures go
Caught in the timeless flow of discreet silence