Tower
Weekend, glittering Wells.
The wind spoke through our mouths
but when died down, said more
as we kissed on Glastonbury Tor
- cold wet stone where bishops hung
waiting for their lullaby -
my mother’s ash lined wind spoke through our mouths
and as she died it down out of nowhere whistled more
as we kissed in the Tor’s mist.
I love in this violet layer where depth will surface.
Where shines the mirror, bounces three candles’
heat to your chest and you call a dance in
winter’s clothes to punch the one sun’s ray out.
The sun’s one ray in. As gospel as bullseye-
anything ringed is a target.
As this call, my daytime vigil pierced for my kin,
so quietly tonight may your skin sing my skin to sleep
Olly is a professional skateboarder and lives in Elephant and Castle. He has had his poetry published in Clinic and Vice magazine.