Only later did I read of his love of YKB
Instead I wrapped presents
Read a poem by Derek Jarman
…fucking, fucking, fucking
I came with nothing
I was given nothing;
given nothing, but
the tongue-tied gift of love
A clear September night
on a quiet hilltop
sat, counting the stars
with tear filled eyes
blurring the darkness
I go with nothing
I gave everything;
gave everything, except
the tongue-tied gift of love
…fucking, fucking, fucking
a poem from myself the poet –
she unwrapped presents instead
