This needs a new title. And I'm going to try and fix some of the stanzas in the middle
Play a song. This one
Was Marianne’s favourite.
Plummeting through realities:
Each is painted with a new and foreign palette.
I will follow you anywhere
If I can hear you sing,
Ride the winds,
Knit up the seas to keep you warm.
I can look into the ceiling like a well.
Not even clocks move clockwise.
Who needs innocence when there are
Fresh purples to find out? –
Furniture changes shape
If you turn away for a second.
News says, 50 years of sex abuse
At somebody’s old school –
Don’t think about time. Time
Didn’t think about Marianne.
She: tickle behind your ribcage,
Space which used to cradle rainbows.
This one was Marianne’s favourite.
The bounding elastics of your fingertips
Will dry up.
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