Silent Couple in a Red Car, leaving Old Bawn
I no longer know how to try and recapture
The intimacy which once existed between us,
So harmoniously woven that we barely noticed
The coded rituals of touch holding us together.
One night we forgot to close the fridge door
And by morning a small transparent glacier
Had enveloped our kitchen, edging upstairs
So that we woke inside an ice-capped world.
We remain the same people, except that now
We can watch every breath we take harden
Like a slow spectre formed by ectoplasm
In this arctic atmosphere. I feel scared
Because once you said that you could not live
Here on this earth without me by your side,
But each breath shows you no longer depend
On my love to exist. If I died you would survive,
Because you are ready to step from our capsule
Amid the rooftop galaxies, too absorbed to notice
My hands banging against the small glass porthole
As you cut the cord, drifting free into the universe.