Day 2: not taken

speak to me in must of grain-bins
that willow hand left trailing, strums
the fence. i never thought you’d go.

same old well-trodden heartlines
i chased you down a dusty driveway
to tell you goodbye. you stood blinking
hands full of watercans. i was leaving
for the world, and you just trod on homeward.

is it in the womb that these things start? betrayal
denial, the jostling for ambient light from distracted
hearts too much chewed by the dogs of the world.
if i bring you the picture of us with our wild gosling
will you remember?

pattern repeats. i told you once i couldn’t 
make your choices in my time. owlish kid
i didn’t even know what i meant by that. your hand
on the rudder of my soul when it hit me, my storm
and i stayed the course. harboured, i blink at the sea
winking above darkest green

fathom is a funny word. say it ’til you lose weight
of knowing what it means, and chant ‘full fathom five
full fathom five, full fathom’ 

the absurd clocks us no matter how we press
toward some gaseous vision of gracious mornings
the hound lies farting on her rug, get the message

there were these paths in the woods, now they’re gone
the deer move on, moss springs back, things rustle

knowing anything doesn’t save you. life still rubs
the lipstick off and the song doesn’t care how you look
but i swear i love your haystack hair from now ’til never
big boots, big boots, big boots walk on.

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