Standing In Night Grass

If a candle seen from the road
Bubbles in the dark bold as stone
She stops and dismantles her hair
She knows he still dances out there.

Shadows that ill favour can berate
Lurk just outside the bon fires tide
Swaying fingers in the bleak heat
Singers not of songs but in damp feet.

Appearing now as the moonlight crawls
Among the night that erected its wall
Along the ditch towards the wire gate
Here where strangers met their fate

She can scent the charred factory roof
Which is dark but still darker through
The light dew that beads every blade
Of grass praising itself in night-shade.

A quilted winged light, stapled broken on
My wilted breathe from a dragon’s skull
Where the dark hides faces window-sill
You could burn your glass and often will.

Where single words bend our solitude
Amused he chews a chain breaks a gate
Thick words make the damp mud shake
Standing in the night grass with his ache.