She said that you looked beautiful when you were sleeping
And through the receiver I heard your breath
At once laboured, rhythmic and soft talcum cloud
(You go on)

I can almost feel your hands like rice paper
Dissolving into mine
And it is over,
For real this time

I will remember you next year
(And again)
In the dresses you wore until the light shone through,
And your restless legs cast slow puppet shows in the lounge.

In all clocks ticking.

Your hair pinned into soft curls and sleep pushed to one side
In biscuit crumble caught in lemon wool.
And the girl you were, and wanted me to be
A tennis hero, an endless runner
(I was not)

On Wednesday,
I will get the slow train to see you for the last time

The worst time

And i’ll miss you

No comments: