Any casual observer
could see
this searing love
and in their eyes
the deepest of all reachings
for the promise of tomorrow.
This wonder of
each other
that moves in
new seasons, where
calm
sultry afternoons slip
into passionate nights,
where the gentle murmur
of lovemaking and heartbeats
rise up to the heavens
embracing the moon
and the stars.
DNA.
I thought I caught his
face
as I moved from the mirror
saw his walk as I lurched
through empty
streets.
Even my hands now
hold his thick veins
calluses and
wrinkled skin.
My arm falls
behind my back
in that damn same
way I
don’t smell of whisky
my chin lacks stubble
there's an absence
of violence.
He’s dead of course
and yet I feel him
in my pain
in my blood
my poetry.
It’s not all about
Rapture
Banquets,
and Caviar.
It’s the strangers
Smile on the subway.
The luxury of
buttered toast
steaming coffee
and a three bar fire.
And people don’t smile
at each other anymore
don’t chat
don’t smile
take Prozac instead.
Neighbours don’t neighbour,
we do it online now
no communities anymore
even
the shopping’s delivered
by strangers in vans.
I need to change my
status
in these demanding times-
Instead I bring my hands together
In thoughts of you
and feel the
pull.
