Rooftop

Zinc and slate against my thighs,
a metal sky above me, low,
forbidden, lurking,
if I stretch my ungloved hands,
I reckon I could harvest
all the citrine gems, the golden beryls,
fire opals, amber stones
concealed behind these autumn clouds

The red brick chimney in my back
discharges central heating fumes,
and it feels almost friendly,
like a lukewarm handshake
from a perfect stranger

While I

Rooftop