My Other Half

The day you sawed me in half
Was the day my love for you
Almost died.
I trustingly lowered myself into the
Tricksy coffin, and smiled,
Reassuringly, of course,
At the assembled audience.
I went through the usual procedure
Of extricating myself,
Giving my toes a good, idiosyncratic wiggle
To prove to all disbelievers that they
Truly belonged to me.
Meanwhile, I anticipated the covert shuffling
Of the other woman, with remarkably similar
Feet to mine, all the while feigning
A large dose of theatrical angst.

She failed to materialise.
Contrary to all expectations
There was no other woman
To help in this illusion.
It was just you, me,
And a large, singing saw.
I didn’t believe you’d carry on
So relentlessly,
But you did.
You worked your way through me
And magically I survived.
You moved me

With a stolen Asda trolley.
I love you to bits you said.

Now I realise that
I’m better off apart.
I cannot imagine how this division
Could ever be reconciled.
The join would be so ugly.
You are a magician indeed
To make me love this like I do.

Clare Howard-Saunders

If you have any comments on this poem, Clare Howard-Saunders  would be pleased to hear them.