‘You had the world
In the palm of someone else’s hand,’
She said,
As the dark emerald of
The city lights closed in.
‘And you knew that
This world would
Do anything for you.’
She continued,
While a chevron
Of wild geese
Gossiped their way
Towards the salt marsh
Where the tide infects
The land.
‘I thought about you
Night and day’ he said.
‘Until the thinking
Was all.
You know like making
Love
When the making
Was the thing.’
A freight train
Muttered something
Under its breath
On the far side of town
And cats noised themselves
In a long dead rose thicket
That once bloomed every year
Like clockwork on someone’s birthday.
She returned the world to him
And faced the window
To hide her tears
Seeing beyond
The rat run racing
And a bus, ‘not in service’.
He got out of the car
In slow motion,
Perhaps half- hoping
That she would
Get out and run after him,
But she had already
Clipped on her seat belt for safety.

On Never Seeing a Blue Whale
If the fetch of death Should come before I see you neighbour, Breaching in the pacific vast, Forgive me, for in my Book of Wonders I once read that a