Poem 475

A contrite lover with a sad and sadly common story … we tell ourselves all we want is to be loved then go and carelessly waste it …

Your Love

You loved me without asking
much as the snail invites
the starling to dance

you loved me under the flat rock
on the sand
                        the sea
scratching and whimpering at the door

your love asked nothing
but the bread and milk from the shop
and then it let me off that

your love was under insured
and the premium money went
on paper decorations

your love slipped off its shoes
and ran
                 you sent out your love
with address and phone number pinned to its coat

and I returned it in an ambulance
a spinning red siren
and a shriek that had the lights coming on

streets away