A Long Night's Dying (Poetry)
17th June 2012
We watched the winter sun go down together
each knowing — yet not saying — what we knew
this was the last time you would be a witness
its tired heart spilling gaudy light until
exhausted — that repertoire of colours —
it left a widowed dusk to follow through.
And I held your hand — blue-veined and cold and withered
conscious of the slightest twitch and tremble
and the clock upon the wall that gave no comfort
with the cornered purple shadows bending closer —
were they waiting for a whisper of confession ?
but we didn’t — as it happens — speak at all.
So we were alone — yet not alone — while twilight
bought crowding vague those listeners to secrets
who shuffled greyness round your narrow mooring —
a boat that settled low in sullen water —
with you the sole and barely-living crew
tethered to the quayside by my fingers
and the long, long rope of my longing
to keep you from that sea we knew rolled near —
its darkness and the drag that is its power
singing from the mouth of death’s own silence —
no need for words your eyes told me you heard
a distant bell that tolled upon another shore.
Time lapped the rotting legs of banquet tables
swirling higher round my ankle bones
and I felt its careless chill wash through a doorway
as it tugged at your worn body
lying white among the sailcloth and the rigging
I smelled the sweet wet saltiness of you.
And the city seemed so far away and foreign —
its traffic queueing to infinity — only us
in this harbour too barren and pain-swept
and you already aching to be free
your heart slow-tuned to words I couldn’t utter —
a prayer for you — you answered with a sigh.
Hands undid the numbers on the clock face
counted through our years in one long night
they wouldn’t slow however hard I tried to
petition for our love and for your life
the anchor chain was rusting by the moment
the undertow too strong under the calm.
Deep anger thrashed — impotent in the water
and hope a stone sank down and down and down...
no goodbyes — you slipped away — those oars
dipping clean where ocean stretches in my head
fish-words squirm — unhooked — unsaid — my loss
as wreckage cast afloat — and still adrift today.
each knowing — yet not saying — what we knew
this was the last time you would be a witness
its tired heart spilling gaudy light until
exhausted — that repertoire of colours —
it left a widowed dusk to follow through.
And I held your hand — blue-veined and cold and withered
conscious of the slightest twitch and tremble
and the clock upon the wall that gave no comfort
with the cornered purple shadows bending closer —
were they waiting for a whisper of confession ?
but we didn’t — as it happens — speak at all.
So we were alone — yet not alone — while twilight
bought crowding vague those listeners to secrets
who shuffled greyness round your narrow mooring —
a boat that settled low in sullen water —
with you the sole and barely-living crew
tethered to the quayside by my fingers
and the long, long rope of my longing
to keep you from that sea we knew rolled near —
its darkness and the drag that is its power
singing from the mouth of death’s own silence —
no need for words your eyes told me you heard
a distant bell that tolled upon another shore.
Time lapped the rotting legs of banquet tables
swirling higher round my ankle bones
and I felt its careless chill wash through a doorway
as it tugged at your worn body
lying white among the sailcloth and the rigging
I smelled the sweet wet saltiness of you.
And the city seemed so far away and foreign —
its traffic queueing to infinity — only us
in this harbour too barren and pain-swept
and you already aching to be free
your heart slow-tuned to words I couldn’t utter —
a prayer for you — you answered with a sigh.
Hands undid the numbers on the clock face
counted through our years in one long night
they wouldn’t slow however hard I tried to
petition for our love and for your life
the anchor chain was rusting by the moment
the undertow too strong under the calm.
Deep anger thrashed — impotent in the water
and hope a stone sank down and down and down...
no goodbyes — you slipped away — those oars
dipping clean where ocean stretches in my head
fish-words squirm — unhooked — unsaid — my loss
as wreckage cast afloat — and still adrift today.