i

'We're in the cinema we love. My hair
    Is on your shoulder - that custard jacket -
And your heart's beating where
    It always does, against my cheek.
There's nothing wrong with us, or ever
    Could be. Here, behind the credits,
Is the heroine in long shot. Bleary angel time -
    Teary face and Pentel biro. Cut

To the pre-dawn line
    Of blistered honey below the blind.
It must be four in the morning; maybe five.
    In the aquavit night sky outside,
The mad full moon is Scarlet Lady red
    With equinox, ringed in a halo-dial
Of peacock green. Cats yowl in black back gardens,
    The duvet on the bed

Is whipped to screes. A mobile, a gone-off hand-
...