Wednesday 4 November 2009

this is the place i made my first mistakes


Rain


I
you never asked to see the weather report
said it made you feel cold and anxious
even if we were predicted sun.

II
you smelt of popcorn
or hope. a burnt shell atomised
and tumbling through life,

reminding me of that first fight
over nothing, saying something,
your body vibrating next to mine

or the day we caught the bus
to somewhere else, you snatched at
my fingers like a responsibility
and I pulled away.

we couldn’t be bothered to shout -
but dull clouds gathered overhead
as you took your things
and left my house.

III
last night I sat outside
my cigarette tracing the thought of you
and was surprised
when it rained.