Still Here After Love’s Long Days
The cumulative affect of all relationships ends with one
We are hurdling the big questions.
Should I be the sun to your horizon —
the candle to your flame?
It’s so green among the yellows.
Please — photosynthesise me
turn my albumen to yolk.
We are in the yesterdays of love
& sometimes the light darkens.
Things can turn on a dime.
Then brightness returns. Together we
pass through this kaleidoscopic arc
subject & object, atoms twirled.
At others, we sow fusion in foreign lands.
I had already planted too many seeds.
Complaints are different now.
Coffee rings on a pale green nightstand.
I drag in two sisters from The Bible
in my defence. Mary sitting at the feet
of Jesus, while Martha rushes around.
She twirls long hair in slender fingers —
What else will he pull out of the bag?
Several relationships in, I am beyond vows.
But in the morning, I shall rise early
vacuum the hall, take out Lawrence
Hardy, Chaucer — dust jackets, clean shelves.
Leopards. Spots. Dogs & old tricks.
It’s not much, I know.
Ikea didn’t provide a warranty
for slovenly antics. But apples
are ignorant of the fall.
We have guests soon. She grins —
goes off to make Indian food.
Copyright Simon Heathcote
