puffing durries in the lavender evening
my ex-fiancée and i wander down the rd
my wheelchair slanting by her swinging
cripple swagger. she has that look she
gets on the bad days like she’s fighting
off a migraine by sheer will alone. in the
fading half-light her eyes appear almost
colourless underlined by deep grey she
looks straight ahead jaw tense hands at
her sides she is so beautiful that it hurts
a little to look at her. when i turn away
my vision is filled with whirling sunspots
and my heart aches a little but in a good
way the way things hurt when they are
healing. when i look back she quirks a
tiny smile from the corner of her mouth
as she relights her cigarette cupping her
hands to shield the flame from the wind
Robin M Eames is a queercrip poet and historian living on Gadigal land. Their work has appeared in Cordite, Voiceworks, Ibis House, Archer Magazine and Deaf Poets Society, among others.
