New & Selected (1981 - 2009), Time Between Tides,
Helen Thomas in Epping
sound pushed like paper under a door
all that you left of yourself for me,
the shape of us. While you saw your way,
leafless window promised me nothing
its changing tone-songs, Easter
Easter already written, imagined
the fogged silence of woodland,
ally in a conspiracy of short days.
I've had to live with that prophecy,
of a solitary alive
a rain that has once too often slushed
seeking a dusk poem
the prosaic glare of grey light.
this remains in the knowledge of winds
still blow now and then over the place
me a ghost there. In the morning
there's a dress on a bed
a naked silhouette in white light
the window as if it happened yesterday
the snow's stillness brought us together,
iambics of you walking away
the last sounds we made of love.