I Charge Thee Hence

 

I Charge Thee Hence

 

Last night she came to me.

To say I was surprised was an understatement –

you see these Doha pavements,

well – they’ve too many cracks – agreed?

Tread lightly and with care,

you could conjure threads never there.

When she left, some of her last words

were: ‘The spell is broke.’

This, of course, is a private joke

and I screwed with the adverb

for the rhyme. Some of her last words

because there were others she toyed with

in due course - she takes, you give –

fall through cracks, but live,

so I’m pleased to say neither of us

left the battlefield untouched.

Battening down my sight to penetrate black

and see she is naked front and back,

full figured firm – it is 10 years ago, again – clearly

when we said stuff like: ‘I love you dearly,’

but a year and a bit is all

it takes to change that,

just wait a few more; everything sags,

there’s tattoos, creases, pink dyed grey hair -

but I know why she’s here; what she wants.

Those in the room with me, licking lips,

cannot tear their eyes from breasts and hips;

she only has to say it once:

‘Come with me.’ She beckons, opens, reveals

what it is she thinks I should feel:

‘I want you to meet my new partner.’

And if I should choose to go with her,

well, here’s a door opened onto lost life,

with talk of past futures, new wives,

galleons whose sails are billowing full,

offering safe passage to any fool

who takes hold of stray threads and pulls -

so, you know, I charged her hence:

‘And do not haunt me thus with empty boats,

for I am real and you are ghosts.’