Without

by Claire Scott

The future is
furling
its wings

too tired to
soar close
to the sun

to sweat in
a tangle
of arms

& legs &
lips &
tongues

what is left
after bodies
no longer

are we buddies
colleagues
friends

with no benefits
do we drag
our drooping

feathers in
the unhoured
hours

while orange
ghosts whisper
orange words

remember?

can brittle bones
lean together
bare birds

on Winter branches
can frayed edges
find the familiar

a touch, a smile
a memory of
white wine &

twisted sheets
who are we
without