On Tuesday you told me you loved me.
Out of the blue the words settled upon
my shoulders of solitude and drifted
up my neck, throat and tongue
to my brain where they dawdled
as I became used to the idea that
there was love in my life once more.
Once more there was feeling in a bleak
and desolate landscape, rain to the dry
sand of my human need.
You gave me this and now you lie
in a hospital bed isolated from
the world by bandaged time.
I cannot say you are a type-fast
kind of person cos you don’t know it
but you ask for the earth not some
of the wrecking-balled timings they
have put before the fence of timing-belted
laughter and hope.