poems

Second Take

The rain’s come at a good time.
Like in the film
when the actors,
clad in trenchcoats,
Drenched with just-acknowledged
passion,
Kiss
in bedraggled bewilderment
under a torrent of joy.


Just hours after you said,
No
I will not
Kiss
your lips today
for ‘it means too much’.

So I shrugged and left you filmstill on the pavement
Because it was too painful to listen.

How could such touch,
such gentle exploring,
wet fire, willing lips,
be feared ‘too much’?

It means what it means. It’s just real.

Round the corner,
Crouched distraught on a low wall,
I dripped hot shameless tears
onto stone
Each drop an attempt to soften or
Atone.

On my balcony now, it is cool.
Cool and raining.

An actor is missing, on a break for denial.
But the pavements have softened under the downpour,
We await his recall, the inevitable re-run of reel, real kissing.

Meantime, I laugh out loud
And the whole world glistens.