Because you’ll not come with me. Because
You stand between I must
Take my leave
With the dawning wind’s
Very first light.
My bag’s in the hallway – credentials
Jingling in a pocket
Kept for such an occasion…
Don’t talk to me of images, the kind
You sell to make yourself more fashionable.
Don’t pretend chance when you mean adjustments
To the address; one’s as tall as the other.
Don’t pledge revivals – you know
How makeshift they are.
If I wanted anything it was to see you
As you could have been: green with
The dawn. The world
Breaking over you.
Of your touch…