I watch the glass ease
so easily half empty
a picturesque delusion
of happiness, mocking
as the second hand floats
slowly by stuttering at twelve,
my shutters blurring
the consequence of who I am
the solitary figure fatigued,
every word dispensed
twenty yarns ago unheard
tears dissipate
desert my sodden sleeve
run faster than every human
being I have touched
my awkwardness laid lame
beneath the star I long for
the temptation of the gutter
embraced childlike
I dance the forbidden route,
walking the lush green mile
hand in hand with you
my eager saviour, servant
to the night we will always be.
© 2009 Michaela James.
