• William Chadwick


You were sat inside

by the window, picking at paintchips.

I wish I could glide to you

and blow cool air on your face

through the screen window.

Do you remember poking at carwigs

by the porch with plastic forks?

Do you remember eating honeysuckles

until you make yourself sick?

The bite marks on your plastic cup,

the film on your soup,

–all so delicately placed.