and the poem that follows October 30, 2007

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not hollow love, but a multistranded maypole of ribbons
                            garlanded spinning-head                          cloudbound and windwhipped

not letters on fingers, not gouged graffiti
                            not a calculation of one-and-one

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                                                     1

you are perfectly polite; your white top and your nervousness worn
in soothing contrast
your eyes

                                                                                  Dart
to my green eyeshadow
and in you eyes, a shadow of memory clenches my intestines in a fistgrip

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                                                     2

this love heaves tides
fidgety smudger of workbook worries
strawberry haired interloper

                                                                  your scissor-glue struggles
                                                                  rubber rumours           and

                                                                  dirtyfingered    daydreams

hurl my days foward, hand over hand
fields reflected- long and thin- in blunt blades, tempt us both

a snipping-itch for pedals and puddles

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                                                   3

yes I do dream about you     :     you also dream of me

slenderboned and  taut-coiled like a shiny brass spring -
             that
             eyelock
             meeting
you: tidy tie’d and tired  

all this but speech remains pro  fess  ion  al

your embers singe the days to ash in perfect timing
                                                       of my own quiet fire

i would consider it love if i did not know the reasons

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                                                 4

the horror of complete ease is a terrible love
a rot-garden of soiltopped roots
spring tide, then neap; days seep sleepily   -    tide tired

the weight of an arm