Many times I’ve become lost
and snapped out of it next to a rose bush
and bins in someone’s front garden
or by a four-way crossing, car horns
and my mouth is full of boring questions.
Many times I’ve become lost
and found myself helpless as a snow globe
on a mantelpiece in unforgiving sun.
When I kiss someone new my mouth
hosts the ghost mouths of old loves.
A TV static mouth, a cigarette mouth,
a mouth full of piano air and its own ghosts.
And when I touch someone new my hands
are full of grass from all the countries
I’ve visited alone.
If you look hard enough at any flower
it can resemble some part of the human body.
All living things are busy imitating each other
and while my tongue attempts shadows
of a poppy petal and my navel is a rosebud
I’ve become lost again on my lookout for a
lost soul who also doesn’t believe in souls.