In the car
you felt awkward with
bobbed veiled eyes,
squished in,
a neighbour insisted lift.
Their Language was
Course
Throaty
chiming with gold.

You had rationed bread then,
it was women’s only
and when one was
touched askew,
they took her away
from there.

That time of servitude,
5am Dettol, peeling skin,
when your man would
be home waiting to
kiss them Better.
You were glowing and
not alone.

You lent me a book,
frayed edges with
bi-carb knowledge &
I was surprised
that it worked,
as I didn’t know much.

A cache of
pyramid pictures,
Wet mirrored smiles
as they looked down upon us,
with the man reflected
gone
but
kindly enough.

Dragging your feet,
talk time for hours, when
your upward chin
would float above your
throbbing knees,
no grievances at all.

Decibels rose
like the formidable
stone wall
that was still protecting you,
and the laughter you brought
to me was…
thank you.

My practice called and so
I beckoned,
but you whispered
to me somewhere -
with a single
guidance,
to come back.

A sunny day,
a set of white teeth,
was all you could see,
morphine soaked back
against green
struck trees.

Naïve glass
between you and I,
a rose card
with plush material
on the front,
it was
the most expensive one.

Blame that left me
misaligned against a rail,
peeking through
the parts that felt,
coldly
wrong.

Licked and waiting,
useless,
I didn’t know how
to release your
generous sentient
from mine.

Graceful and soft without
life's judgement,
it has locked within me
and remains,
like a warm
forgiving light.