(24th of January, 2016)
I held a picture of you
Sun-bleached hair
On that gilded throne
Of the kingdom
Of “All Is Possible”
And another
Drawn by the hands of someone who knew
The unmistakeable shape
Of your curved back
Twinned with the lonely tree that stood
On top of Herrick
The difference between you and me
Back then
Was that every hill I climbed
You had climbed many times before
I had arrived after the feast
Time, that hungry hyena
Had gorged itself
And spat out the bones of youth
We dragged its spine
And stuffed it in the trunk of our car
The black dog drew figures of eight around us
Unseen binds
I had dreams of transplanting
A forest inside the living-room
That day
Did we stack the building-blocks of memory?
No.
Just firewood.
Sunday, 24 January 2016
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