|
She comes from a forbidden place.
He knows it but doesn’t care,
likes her look of tarnish, yet
is repelled by her scent, her proximity.
She puts a damp hand in his
and whispers, ‘I have something for you.'
He looks away at the horizon
where nothing happens as it should.
She has pockets full of pills,
cyanide capsules, a knife, a rope,
the means of escape.
He has already written the letter
in his familiar tiny script.
He’s made his choice. He asks,
‘Am I lost?’ She smiles
and shakes her head, ‘Found
by me,’ she says.
She is the one who taught him
things behind the cycle sheds.
She cracks jokes. She is comfortable
in her seductive clothes, her bare
feet silent on the grass.
She swigs discreetly from a bottle
in her bag. She’s at home anywhere.
She’s so easy he could hit her.
He stares at the sky, waiting for rain.
‘You know I’m right,’ she says.
‘Take this.'
|
