I imagine you mowing the lawn to atone, painting walls

covering every sin you have committed. An extra coat

over loose ends. Hammered nails in coffins of every fuck up.

New cars, holidays, gifts, attention worthy of a young peacock

lavish while the leash of trust and compensatory promises

Threatens shorter with any sign of un-toeing the line.

 

The gin palace closed down, leaving a columbarium of lust.

My barefoot brash immortality disarms and repels you.

You lie on familiar scented sheets. Head relieved of guilt.

Demob happy, corpse ready and rewired to brighten marital sex.

Remote in her close comfort, steady, grey, known, safe

She’s death. And you putrefy in her moral purity.

 

You secure the garden gate to the canal. Relieved you cannot see

the towpath that treads a fury down to my repainted entrance.

Body starts to age as fast as your mind without the mock

of my youth to keep it alive.  Our world domination shrinks

and I conquer alone. I pick at daisy petals all seasons

my love, my bastard, my darling, my idiot, my hate, my want.

 

Clothed in your old striped shirt, tattered at the edges.

Clutching fallen oak leaves and a mont blanc pen. Poetry haemorrhages

onto silent pages. You’re a tag, a category, a virtual hit.

Passing days heighten fever. Red thread garrottes my siren’s call.

Dancing undeterred on the waves of your internal quarrel.

Where she is blinded by your darkness, I am drawn to it’s light.

 

Curfew of separation wills obedience. Disingenuously we covet

a named grave with intrusive memories. We shelter a secret sorrow.

Mutual masturbation of wretched discontent purges any yearning.

Thinking the best and worst of each other, I blog - you block.

Love is astray in our catacombs of psychological resistance.

Deafened by the sonic boom of unfinished business.

 

© Katypoetess 2013