Ragged Claws

“Supper on a tray in the drawing-room
and nothing said.”
.                            (Selima Hill)

Another failed evening,
a dinner gone cold
over stale conversation

and on my way home now,
safe in the belly
of city and metro,

I think of the short time
we thought we could be
love’s fierce ambassadors -

and how we have ended,
apart but still bound
by dreams of if-only-yous.

At the back of a chain
of empty compartments,
I think that it’s true

that I never quite learnt
how to stand clear
of the closing doors.

This entry was posted on Saturday, June 13th, 2009 at 6:23 am and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.