tangled

tonight the sun
thought to slip away
– secret, unnoticed –

but has instead
become tangled
in the branches
of the plum

which sways as
close to the glow
as it might manage –

in just the same way
I once crossed
a kitchen floor

to taste the warmth
of your torch
against my lips

© Sarah Whiteley

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the more brilliant gleam

I imagine sometimes
how it must be between you
and when it comes down to it
I am more than half-certain
that her spark, being
the nearer glow, is far
brighter than any feeble light
that now reaches you
from our own obscured
constellation
though I think perhaps
there are still moments
as when chill winter spurs
the stars to shine
with greater radiance
and for the briefest of beats
your eyes might rise
in sudden remembrance
as the ghost of my lips thieves
the breath from yours,
when you recall how once
the night contained
us both together
and that we were by bounds
the more brilliant gleam

© Sarah Whiteley