The Arrival II

my body aches for you - my 
arms are old and empty 
clasping nothing, my 
stomach yearns towards 
you and my skin burns 
from the ice of your absence

I feel you in the city, 
somewhere, busy amongst 
grit and petrol, the 
fumes of cars and a 
dusty heatwave in 
your nostrils, people 
and voices, comings and 
goings, tasks and 
tiredness

I am silent, held
to the wood of this bench
primed, tightened,
coiled
tense with
waiting
waiting
clutching

I am the dam before 
the sluice gates pour 
I am the suspenseful 
wait at window 
and door

in this calm but
breezy afternoon I sit
and look normal
but keel over
my ravaged heart
face-up to the sun
	there is no-one 
	no-one exists
but you:
the seal of love and
excess, the astonishment
of patience
in my waiting day

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