In the pink room we have found

each other, you in the blue sling

and I deep in the dreams that

I have for you. It is raining post-

heatwave and I am glad your tiny

feet are cold as shells, my heart-

beat pressed up hard against

your ear. Nothing can touch us

now. Your duckling hair is real,

as you are- I never thought we’d

get this far. I had you in mind for

so long you’re still made up, an

unbuilt world. Sometimes you 

chirp and I realise you’re here,

hot little hands in a grip, how 

serious you are. When your eyes

open they are in flint, intent, 

certain in some cold burning that

you've been here before. Wrap me 

up in that, I like it. I like you a lot

small policeman. You are the icing

on the ocean- a dot! And when you're 
asleep I transcribe every breath,

golden crest, tiny bird, new entire.