Gifted a bouquet of lavender bound
in green twine, I am navigating
the streets of a place I am lost in,
offering the moody cathedral’s
gun metal steeple our tone
behind this city’s summer skyline.
A prayer in the guise of a wreath:
Violet whorls sprinkled to the heavens
holding you in permanent cloud,
fragrance delicate as my belief,
your picture wrapped
in cling-film inside my handbag,
a faint glimpse of you as I reach
for my phone to capture
the spire piercing the belly of dusk.
And here, under a gang of crows
eyeing my pointless gift,
fluttering their black capes over
this purple moment, I inhale
your wild will, a chaotic residue
landing as confetti on my hair.
by Maeve McKenna from Body as a Home for This Darkness
Cover photo by Maeve McKenna