by Jonathan Pinnock
In the blinding glow of twilight,
by the dull shine of the moon,
your matt black eyes entranced me
in the freezing heat of June.
The silent roar of distant cars
caressed me from within,
and so with softest iron bars
I stroked your corduroy skin.
I loved you like a psychopath,
as lustful as the Pope,
a one-track-minded polymath
with a solid sieve of hope.
But liquid stone began to melt
like eggshells made of leather,
your words were sharp as fuzzy-felt,
and we fell apart together.
Jonathan Pinnock is the author of loads of odd stuff, including “Mrs Darcy versus the Aliens” (Proxima, 2011) and the short story collection “Dot Dash” (Salt, 2012)