And Zürich below us bathed in sulphurous flames

So much harder this time
Than even before
To leave you

And rise up through the
Late early summer air
Thick with watery pollens
In search of dulcet cow bells,
Hills and music.

Your scent
Heavy hanging
In my nostrils.
The ache of your skin
Has lodged itself in
The nail beds of my fingers
And the crevices
At the edges of my eyes.
And below.

The sky lit up in the distance,
Striking the ground
with silent hammer blows.
And I could see your face,
Lip bit and upturned
In the darkness,
Across the land
And across the sea
And across the night.

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