One small leap
Of faith in this year
Made for proposals.
She went over the top
And he retreated
Leaving her
Pregnant and unmarried
A casualty of war
Passionate leave
All spent and he
Forgetting her
Closed the door
On that extra day
Which pained her more
than all previous
leave takings.
Four years too long
to ask him again.
We were a perfect match.
Two purple spotted socks.
No hiding in the washing machine
Or at the back of the drawer.
No false pairings.
We were never apart.
You were left and I was always right.
Bought on a whim we
Stood out amongst the greys and browns.
Two of a kind.
We were inseparable.
Went everywhere together.
Never let each other down.
Until the moth attack.
Now I am left.
John, not his real name,
Arrives on an old bicycle
He smells
He is a raconteur
Has lived life
He drinks
Hates his hostel
Despairs of his social worker
He rages
Benefits stopped again
Mates taking advantage
He rants
He wasn’t born to fail
This wasn’t the plan
He hurts.
Carrying his food away
On the handle bars
He waves.
(published in Have You Ever Seen a Cow Eat Eggs?)
image © Salvatore Rubbino
