Now it’s morning
and the impetuous patterns of late night frustration and hate
have dulled to afterglow.
What was I thinking, well
in fact I know.
But a new piece of fate has been slotted to place
and now the picture’s completed.
It has guilt in the whole
diffuse as light over bending figures
and I rest in the foreground, depleted
amongst the contorting souls.
What a meal your body must have had
blindly searching for eradication
only to find a more complete destruction
a more essential realisation
a possibility inherent in every sexual encounter
and it reached out its tiny arms
and grasped them around you.
This is the reason for all your erratic behaviour.
This is where I may step up to serve as your saviour;
Or is this my final finger
still tense on the cliff edge, still slipping
A black hope’s transforming, messianic delusion,
seeming to my future thought
a pathetic final confusion…
But your stunned silence
gave up no noises, or few…
I lacked the last guiding revelation
and then I knew…
Then I knew.