-If you sit in a café that plays old school jazz for long enough, looking out at the wind playfully pushing the Christmas tree like a mischievous lover, by the park you used to sit in at seventeen, when you still had nothing better to do, your muddled mind might start making sense. It probably won’t though.
Give me an ocean to drink.
Give me a boat not to sink.
Give me a night to lie half-awake upon.
Give me a sheet to unroll myself within.
Give me everything.
Give me the love you were saving.
Give me your hand, gloved, or cold as denial.
Give me your sorry state, do not hesitate.
We have all been an endangered mountain bear
they call vicious, too sad to bare our teeth
and make them run to give us peace.
We have all been mere mortal, all realised this
on a day that did not start with someone muttering
our name, mid-sleep, as we left them.
Give me a minute, there is always something else
to do, before I can get to you.
We are not ok, but let’s not tell anyone,
just yet. Place your hand over mine as
I try to get the bar man’s attention,
kiss me as I carry your pint and my
wine glass to our table of friends
who cannot feel this world shifting
under my black platform shoes.
There will be other nights to sink
our teeth into. Let’s not let it be tonight.
Let’s practice this skill of pretending:
me, on your lap, I am not a weight
you have to bear, I was what made you
feel light again, remember?
Remember when I made you what you
thought you were too old to become?