My words are glass and mirrors in your presence.
Might they fall in love — with not speaking?
Hiding words away
until they are broken?
through cupped hands.
Mine are air and mist
And inhabit them
Set up your structures
breaking up like radio interference
into white noise.
IMAGE Towards the left of the image is the lower half of an electricity pylon with its metal geometrical structure appearing through a pale grey mist. There is a fence in front of the lower part. In the distance behind this, partly obscured by mist, are some bare trees and another pylon with three equally spaced cables attached along the side of its top section, stretching out to the top right edge of the image.