Now is the time for mending,
the season I shed the dead
skin of old love,
so the heart can once again
become a living thing.
I have been made small in the wake
of winter; I feel feverish & weather-worn
by a particularly soggy spring.
But there is a wren that flutters
inside my chest, trilling
louder than the murmurs of love
that do not stay.
I feel the click of its beak
as it chips away at my sternum,
for the moment it breaks
through the bone
& hits the nerve that will send me
diving into the summer
with speed and delicacy
in search of new modes of destruction,
singing I have found a trajectory
that is my own.
'Song' was published in our 13th issue, The Outsider Issue, which has now sold out. To ensure that you never miss a future issue of the print magazine, subscribe from just £10 a year.