A proposal
It's one am
When you pose the question
Of duration
And my heart leaps into the tongue
Of the expression
And shuts on the hated
Beloved vowels
I wonder
Could your body lean against mine like
an athletic apostrophe, giving me space
to form breath and make it iambic in pentameter?
could I give you ellipses
to formulate you're your own
possibility
and
could we invent a language that mastered
the spell and the hell
of impermanence?
I know that we sit queuing outside of love
Whilst filling the stadium
As we stupidly await the signal
To let us in.
Ruth
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