Saturday, 15 August 2015


If it would not entail
a further falling in love,
I'd write to you again.
Instead, I drive as far
as it takes, before I can
drive back, because it's dark
or as dark as early summer
evenings allow.

All this, to put to bed
a love and loss that's wrong
for us - wrong for the time -
with its genius for the same
or something like:
proxy, clone, replacement,
substitute. You'll find
another me - just look.