Compeyson

We were perfect together Inseparable Night and day Two blackened petals of the amaranth Wizened, rotted, but eternal A white angel, a waxwork skeleton Gliding up the road Towards the wedding knell And by the altar Before the eyes of God A letter, with your scrawled apology across it. Rushing to the phone now Dialling your number with spinster’s fingers I cry Don’t leave me “The number you are calling no longer exists” Then I remember You faded long ago The dress has yellowed The clocks have stopped The feast has rotted I’m talking to myself.