poems by owen lucas

Falling into lakes with you, cracked lips
Split jeans, small hands, your hips.
The sun passing out, I see the blinds
That pray, we lay, still but for our minds
And your eyes are screwed tight shut,
You dream chimeras, peeling babies. But
In my dreams a techno chess board stays
A fall from grace I won't live down for days
The streets home shine, walked by drunks and strays
This life is like a burst of colour, like a wanton craze
And with my hands still shaking from the hit
The last few days, I don't regret a bit