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.
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