TITHE

burns like a dull razor
the crack in the windscreen
the knock in the valve
right where it matters

caught her eyes
the other day
sunshine in the heat
waiting for the glint
and heaviness of the
distant bus

scorch of history
still alive
still simmering

flickering like a star
in the cold moult of night

pages and pages
of mystery
dog eared and torn
thumbed and folded
like leaves gathered
in the empty verandah

want to hear the rain
wash away some pain