Surrounded by a wall worn smooth
when once it used to be a memory or three.
They all come back
and I hear them from the blue-green
crest near the mountain
where you live there is water and water
is a mystery I’m scared
I might find what is holy, what is sacred
and then, I’ll start to believe
in more than red earth and daisy chains.
I’m sure I heard you say
Stay. When I woke you watched
as I walked after I said goodbye to the night
after the morning I felt
all of you and then, of course, you start
talking about your wife.
It doesn’t matter she left ages
ago. There was always your need for blame.
These days, you tell me you have changed.
No flood could light
another broken prediction you threw
me off like a souvenir.
I will never send this postcard.