It
is only early February but already
my
resolutions are in pieces
and
my lady
has
chewed my heart to pulp from a safe distance
I
swear it happens every year since
we
went walking
and
on that walk no longer hands were holding
to
talk I had to wait on her phone calling
or
she might text me a reply
if
I was lucky
but
I have held on with my heart like port-ropes
for
a ship that sails no more
a
child-like idiot
interpreting
the waves as though there’s meaning
still
to be discerned although
the
tide is leaving
scars
on the harbour floor jagged and bending
deep
against the bed/ the starry ceiling
as
above so goes below
hermetic
teaching
I
ought to know by now
I
ought to leave the rain
its
fall inspires me no more except in echo of the fall
the
original sin was wanting/ shame in needing
and
she won’t fall for that one
any
more
aloft
on the pedestal on which I placed her
safe
from my small arrows and fits
and
upsets
the
church bells softly ring for a shallow minute
the
silence in between I must
accept
it
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