Nicknames

And one word could

Propel me back

Across the years

To foreign lands.

But transitory

Boomerang

I trust myself

To swish right back.

Old embers of

An unreal day

When you would lead

Me up the drive.

The foaming texts

Were fit to burst

A wave about

To break on sand.

But sand will prompt

An hour glass

To mourn the passing

Of old names

We used to spell

In capitals

When we still clung

To unreal gods.

For months I could

Not write your name

Except in ink

Poisoned with hate.

Without realising

What I’d done

I’d forced myself

To love the loss

Of you. You know

My one regret

Was that I could

Not gulp back pride.

Instead I blamed

A demon who

Would wear your name

Pervert your grace.

I don’t deserve

This epithet

I lost it when

I banished you

Like mad King Lear.

You were all that

Turned humble prose

To poetry.

My life will take

A different course

Away from all

We talked about.

The promised end

Will never come

Without you I

Can’t write the lines.