‘The sea has to remain a mystery.’ She said
then evaporated.
I’m flummoxed. They’re married. You tell me
now as if I wouldn’t have wanted to marry her and make her a happy wife.
We could have had a country life….
With a cat who catches mice and two lolloping
hounds.
Taken long walks against strong winds and seek’n
shelter in the carved out hollows of sunken ships, on low-lying beach.
So that we might hide from the world and
then burst out in Spring!
Pass’d Winter nights swooning over the fading
moon through our slice of window pane, wrapped-up in thick blankets the weight
of hay stacks.
Tea at different times of day and different
kinds too.
Loose-leafed, ginseng,
nettle, fennel,
Tetley’s. You'd sing.
Think of it - you in the drawing room
reading. Me in the living room pleading to be paid attention to and writing.
No babies.
We could have had it all. Moved away from
here. And I could've carried you over the threshold with some help from a
stranger. It would've been poverty-stricken bliss
(I'd hide the bills.)
But alas, you found her and I found him and
we’ll be better off with them.
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