Motion

1 November 2017

I still think of how this road was made
for us. The sun is different here. Wear
our love like a talisman, ward off

the lines I wrote to demarcate you
from me. They aren’t incarnations
to summon you. I don’t think

this means I really want you
back. In my life, I’m happiest
when I’m moving. Away

from shards of geography, this us
is genealogy leaving imprints
in the shade. If you can’t then I can’t

help you. I’ve been writing poems
about you. I’ve passed moments
around you. What they don’t tell you

is you don’t win. In films
you sit in the rain and sound
cuts out and ring turns to

whistle, and blood cells grid-
lock in your temples. Then
to swelled symphony you press

two legs against cement and march
up to his door. Say I’m sorry and
I love you, except you don’t

’cos your psych says
You have impulse issues.
Don’t turn him away with another

display of manipulation so just
dream in the driver’s seat while wet
through half-open window
seeps through the lens.

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