New Year

The sky pools out like spilled wine,
visible only through the tangle of twigs
looming from the trees above.
Your hand snags mine,
cold through my glove.

Last year, on Cleeves hill,
you zipped us both inside your coat.
We watched the sky light up,
colours scattered like sugar strands
beneath the pale moon.

I thought I was in love.

We’ve missed the fireworks this year.
It doesn’t matter.
Our world’s already exploding around our ears.