on winter afternoons
the sea her eyes
towns imploding
nothing seems to add up
implicitly
we take turns undressing
these words mean . . .
the waves ending in fizz and lather
i move within her / without her
cry ourselves to sleep –
we just don’t understand
love
alone in an attic room weeks later
wind punching at the skylight
i’m drunk a lot
sick days at the office
only lamplight
the earth still spinning that’s physics
and she is somewhere
co-ordinates the axis revolving
i stand in the kitchen naked
sing for the joy of it all

Paul Robert Mullen is a poet, musician and sociable loner from Liverpool, U.K. He has three published poetry collections: curse this blue raincoat (2017), testimony (2018), and 35 (2018). He also enjoys paperbacks with broken spines, and all things minimalist.