THIS ROOM KEEPS TELLING ME LIES

ok...ok...I admit
sometimes I forget
& go & call you

and the telephone
remembers
that. . .

or there's everything in place
the room just as you left it
as if you had just stepped out of it

for a minute or so
soon...soon you will be
coming back . . .but: you're not

or your clothes
hide in the wardrobe
wondering where you've gone

but they feel so all alone
empty trousers
over empty shoes

making a scary scarecrow
version of you
and I turn away

in disbelief
that there's no you
. . .no more

I watch the sunlight
crawl across the carpet
dust motes dancing

in an empty flat
look upon your favourite hat
touch it and then...not touch it

sit at your piano
and hit middle C
the last thing you ever taught me

I hate this room
for pretending you
you're still here

I know...I know
it's lying
I brush away a tear

didn't even know
that
I'd been crying