Unsolved

[Beware: word-vomity awfulness drizzled with a dash of eww. Trying to get back into this, 29 more poems to do in the next three weeks, hopefully it'll help - wish me luck.]

Wonderland was the name you scribed
on the patio doors, though stiffened
by fortnights of rain, and swollen at the hinges.
You’d gaze at the flat areas in the grass
until the curves of your mind spilled
like laughter down the hundred worn hooves
of a carousel as it spins, entombed  in its own
symmetry, waiting for it to spring up
between the daisies fainting against the glass
when night rises, unsmiling.

You remember my name
sometimes, and call it out loud,
as though to the cat who’s pawprints
still ghost the concrete steps, looking
for the dried-out milk I used to leave out,
while every night in this garden,
more moons look away in the sky.

Your fingers reach out to stroke my face
but pull away when splinters separate
your memories of what you always believed
happened here. The garden listens, but only speaks
when nobody is there to hear its murmurs.
The pink champagne we spilled between the blades
dried like blood in the moonlight: black.

And I thought I saw a star cry my name, before
the constellations became your witnesses.

[Sept 3rd]