London Aubade

London Aubade

Every hair and inch of skin stayed wakeful
all night blessed by busses that
roared like dragons
clocked by jealous hours
which flew faster

Streetlights faded from the orange
of brassy henna and
dawn put night in her pocket
like a tip

You sang out, then rested cheek to cheek
a perfect moment and in it
dreadful mourning burst in me
spikes of daylight bits of shrapnel

I thought you loved me then
and knew
I would not see you
again