where the sounds of the clip of time are imbedded
moving a reader along into your world and out of theirs.
Quickly brutally sharply.
I want to create a space where when they are gone
they choose to come back and linger and savour
the letters I have strung together.
Without dragging a book on the train a plane
and finally into their bed.
I dream of them
repeating my words,
the ones that touched them
made them ponder.
Why they let that lover go.
How they crossed the waters felt wind on their dry lips.
Cried tears on the ferry
and went inside.
Touching where the slap was so hard.
I might write a book one day, a short one.
One which will not leave a reader
feeling mystified betrayed confused
because the character they had grown to know
during their 300 odd page journey together
was lying to them throughout.
No, give me a poem
Where it is black or white
with not enough room for excuses.
Because in only so few lines
there is little chance
but enough time