November 5, 2018 at 12:45 am 1 comment


i think we were drunk
on words, that day
in the meadow: certainly

i’d had no plans to touch
your breast, or recreate
that two-backed, insatiate

beast. (looking at me, afterwards,
you could not disguise
your sadness: i’d not known

you were married.) –passing
you on the street, i find
it difficult to decide whether

to smile or ignore you. some
knowledges cannot but sear,
some touches lend only scars.

have you also
revisited that meadow?

Entry filed under: Ancient Poetry, social psychology. Tags: , .

Journeys tellings

1 Comment Add your own

  • 1. samwise davies  |  November 5, 2018 at 12:46 am

    The ‘social psychology’ was definitely deliberately left in.


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