maybe we are supposed to meet the wrong people

maybe we’re not meant to be

maybe we are satelites

maybe we are the lucky ones

maybe we’re friends maybe we’re more

maybe we are all cabinets of wonders

maybe we are meant to meet the wrong people

maybe we’re each others soulmates



“Art is to console those

who are broken by life”
but what of the unfortunate few

who are broken by death
 should they be left

to wallow in sadness and grief
or bundled up firmly

in the warmth of love
because the moss 

on his lovers grave 
shows the rain that pitter

pattered on the stone
and because both hands 

were used to wipe away tears
none were left to bring

the shelter of an umbrella


Time to Grow

Girls in England 

Have long hair.

Hair that’s flat 

And sits neatly

On their shoulders.

My hair is short

And black, 

And sticks up in

The morning

Like moody fur.

The girls in my class 

Speak to me, finally

And ask about my hair – 

Why it’s short.

“Is it because you’re a lesbian?”

She wants to know.

It’s true that 

Some boys have 

Longer hair than me.

                    – the weight of water, Sarah Crossman