Sitting in a bowl
There is an image of her sitting in a bowl
And under that image is a tree
Under that tree are the remains of something they once planted and then
Forgot to water
Roots took hold and things didn’t workout
Forget that this was something not always in the realm of what is
Not possible or believable
Can’t make it and cold
it runs cold
There is ice in the veins
And once every six months there is a line cast
To see if it is possible to hook and pull in
Bring him closer
Consider the next fishing trip
With bags packed, just deciding on the lures needed
Not sure about this
There seems to be some confusion between bait and
When you realise that he is the lethal injection
You signed for
Anticipating that sublime oblivion would be preferable to whatever
Version of reality is left
Become a sniffer dog looking for the trail
Of your love where it once was
Sniff out the scent of him at work
Watch yourself become a stalker
As you wait for him
You know you will always wait for him and that is your pledge
Shine this away
And then be in the gardens of paradise
Even though on growing older, your shoulder is hurting you
As he lies on the other side and you wait to be reunited
There is something with which you are not happy
This boat is missing the engine
Not sure if you have the right oil
There’s only the next time and then you will have to ask because
Without guidance
It is hard without a manual
It is hard without a manual
It is hard without a manual
This is hard without a manual
Especially when
There are no imaginary children on the other side.
Text: © J. L. Nash, 2010
Images: © Nicola Vinci
