Saturday, 1 November 2014

Requiem for the Ghost of Forever

A ceiling above us, and a floor below,
don’t touch, don’t touch,
this forever-ghost,
watch the cracks
 as they spread and flow,
all mine for the taking,
if I want it,
I know. Stop.

Stop, at the edges,
put your hands out now,
and knock me, tender, to the floorboard-ground,
roll me beneath you and without a sound,
speak the words, say them over again.
Listen, listen – can you hear
the rain, on the slates,
down the chimney shaft? Raise an eyebrow, make me
laugh, like the water
as it scurries through drains – watch the forever-ghost wax
and wane, like a moon in the window pane.

Lay, lay,
lay my head
on your shoulder,
so much time now;
past and older, so much tomorrow
and yesterday grown colder,
so much ‘sorry’ already…too much.
All passed,
all is trust,
in your eyes as you smile and make plans;
and the forever-ghost sits down
on the
bottles and
cans of a barely contained future,
she bows her head, as a weary creature,
for she knows
the awful truth.

Those words are spoken again,
and I cannot answer - because it isn’t you.

And the forever-ghost fades away to nothing,
leaving behind her,

a deepening blue.

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