As we turned last night
From the opposite corners
Of the bed I tried to remember
The last time we made love.
It seems like an age
Or, as you would say,
A temporary hold of events.
But whatever was said
There are still things missing,
Unmentioned now in the face of blackspirit.
And as we twist and turn at night
There are many truths spoken:
Your body backed away from mine,
The way you take the duvet
And the strong linger of history,
All those things enclosed within the shadow
Of a future distant as God although neither
Would confirm assignations or relationships,
Nothing to offer at all as I wind up my
Mind and retreat to when someone mattered
In 1999, someone who gave me back
My life and my dazzling radiations
That echo so silently in busy streets,
Watching the secretions of my life
Stunned into opposition that claws its way on,
I here now and you there, exiled but present,
Waiting for me home as rain falls.
If you've any comments on
this poem, John
Cornwall would be pleased to hear from you.