Waking

WAKING

As synchronised as runners before the gun

Taught and twitch less till no-body won through the covenant of night glow and sun

cracking at our shackles

ordering you rise with swiftness and join the workers

You gust over me with sparks (no unfolding strings) and your hair chimes in a wind parade ; you blur out of the room wakening the air

and totter a melody of percussion

The kettle clicks in a timeless commodore intro

in four bars a high hat snare of silverware

And that finger clicking clink clink of spoon on bowl

over the bass of your silk saxaphonic aura romancing me a lullaby of ........

sheltered domesticity

and children’s overlapping song.....,

washing machine and dark homely corners of council property in subtle melody

till......

way off key ,crashing my luxury with a packed monosyllabic

SMASH of slobbering wet lips on mine

rounding off in that bubble like pop !that signs its metamorphosis to a statement;

pre-texted and unforgiving

Let me see behind the under curtain of  light-flecked hair tickling my face in gossamer irritants like sand flies

There: your actress’s eyes search for a keyhole to my inner chambers

Seems we are bound solely by a need to be bound

Anyone can hold hands

But how much more darkness will dribble down your jowls

before your shoes squelch in the uncongealed puss of it

How can I love you when I don’t know who you are?

How can we be one when I’ve not found ‘I’ and you evade your 'self '

How can we make love when we don’t love

What makes you seriously think I could be the one