A poem by Forsaken Press writer Sasha Cuha……

You are smoke, my love,
an arabesque of desire
that floats and waltzes
through the briar and oak.

I am trapped
by the way you lie
in that foreign floral halo,
your lips embroider the night
bringing colour to skin
and names to Gods
when they land
(like promises or moths)
on me.

The well of your skull –
a space between drab and divinity
where serpents lie and twist,
singing secrets to the silent witness
hiding amongst the bones and rain.

She weaves the fishnet of our limbs
and lets us trawl for jewels
across the mouth of our river.

You are smoke my love,
and I am become the ember and trout.