aeroplanes and goslings

Old psalms from young throats forced me to remember you how you sat wide fingered on a tryst worn chesterfield heart beating like a pavement gosling. You were petrified of yourself standing like a colonnade scraping graffiti like a back in motion breathing for livings sake and that was me in you yet not inside till six months later. In two hazel mirrors you laid given from my mind, taken by escalator teeth with the kiss you blew me leaving your lips at mascara speed, to a sea of brake lights I drown in – whenever I hear planes