Sunday, April 17, 2011

You by Carol Ann Duffy.

You


Uninvited, the thought of you stayed too late in my head,

so I went to bed, dreaming you hard, hard, woke with your name,

like tears, soft, salt, on my lips, the sound of it bright syllables

like a charm, like a spell.


Falling in love

is glamorous hell; the crouched, parched heart

like a tiger ready to kill; a flame’s fierce licks under the skin.

Into my life, larger than life, beautiful, you strolled in.


I hid in my ordinary days, in the long grass of routine,

in my camouflage rooms. You sprawled in my gaze,

staring back from anyone’s face, from the shape of a cloud,

from the pining, earth-struck moon which gapes at me


as I open the bedroom door. The curtains stir. There you are

on the bed, like a gift, like a touchable dream.



(Belated, but happy 16th. I love you)

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