Saturday, 24 February 2018

All Tomorrow's Partings

All Tomorrow’s Partings

Many, many years from here; who knows when:
we’ll meet. Maybe coffee in a Costa,
bean counting, awkward grinning across rims
like mugs. Drunk and punched by a past we've lost.

We will, I’m sure, refuse the offered cake.
Talk much about nothing for half an hour
or so, snipping each other’s phrases; words
bitten in accidental halves by nerves.

Disputing the bill will make our hearts ache,
who wants to be in debt to the other?
Fumbling for coins that change like false lovers.
Then leave. Forever, I think. Love's last showers.

Count your brief moments and lust in love’s luck:
Your futures lie like dregs in coffee cups.

Friday, 9 February 2018

The English Roses

The English Roses

Sun blistered ghosts of glass
do splinter-bleed my finger
nailed me to the past
where autumn leaves whisper.

Bullrush border frozen water. White
lily tremble and undulate. Brisk
breeze, clear sight hides night 
shade that light must risk.

Static sterile hours leaf shake
trees left barren and bare.
Just the ghost of love forsaken. 
Just a blink, glimpse of her.