Cocteau Twins
by Rachael Boast

copyright © 2013 by Rachel Boast

I’ve heard the phrase between you
and me too many times to believe

it to be true, but between me and you
there was Cocteau, wagging his testimonial

finger, as usual, while flat out on the floor
with my arms in receipt of the flower

of thought, palms upwards, I envisaged
the inside eyes of his hands remaking words

for a song that is a drawing that is a film —
that is, a poem; and in the middle of all this

the books on the shelves float down while
falling upwards, slipping out of their jackets

as the naked petals of their pages turn
into mirrors, which is to say, they blossom.