yet all that i want is to write
you know
to be understood for one thing
i don’t mean
to be well understood
i wouldn’t want that now would i
actually there is one other thing
who was that leaving
without saying goodbye
is that the end of the singing
is the ukulele practice over
surely not without a refrain
are you smiling
or were you pensive
are you sad
or were you frustrated
did you ask a question
or was that me
are you annoyed
or were you surprised
did you have something to hide
to whom were you writing
is there any reason
that i ought to know
in the park
by mother and child sculpture
you are playful
filled with joy
is this your dream space
or was it mine
of course we are
undoubtably connected
he is our true and beautiful bond
yet undoubtably
yes even without my name
i cannot be diminished
why did you make that decision
to gift him your name
instead of mine
without discussion
of course I wished for all you wished for
such are the ways of love
i visited that quarry
i stood in that riving shed
as you call it
i watch that slate worker
split the rock ever thinner
each time
the bond
between mother and child
was too much for me
every time
I found myself on the wasteland
i worked in a quarry
we crushed our rocks
mechanically
mercilessly we pulverised them
into dust
then calcified the dust even finer
each time
i was to be overlooked
not even to have a share
of the spoils
every time
i found myself alone and lonely
he placed his leather jacket
over her mid-summer shoulders
she thanked him
with a meaningful smile
then she ran
such that he had to chase her
this was how
their life was going to be
beside oceans
also on aeroplanes
his passions
knew no boundaries
descending through mists
landing among sea frets
his desire lifted
to clear his clouded mind
in every part
of every life
there will be absence
was there a cupboard
at the foot of the stairs
in every place
there is another place
a story as yet untold
or never to be told
