Ecstasy (pub. by The High Window)

They embrace like ivy
hastening the ruin’s end –
under the broken exit

share narcotic kisses
that erase self and
the body’s borders:

step outside both
crowded nightclub and
St Mary’s graveyard.

Maybe come-downs
are the weight
of coming back

like the small
dove shaped bruise
located above

the scapula,
on her carotid vein
– trembling.

With many thanks and gratitude to David Cooke for publishing this poem

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