You say, when I use the word,
that she, my she, uses it too -
you say ‘what does it mean?’
And this, when leaning against the backdoor post,
you roll a roll-up and other thoughts
wander round my head,
playing with the distance in our age,
feeling your youth, your relative youth,
wanting to sustain your journey,
thinking of our near-strangers’ intimacy,
and I telling you of too many things that are
like a child with a tale or two to tell
but, then, I strain for inspiration,
the freezing air scratching at my nape and wrists.
We return to the warmth and our others
and to calm the unease I say
‘We discussed the spiritual’.
‘And what is that?’
Your he says it’s the movement away from hard memories,
My she says it’s the link when mind and body become one.
Splitting off and melding –
it is, it seems, two opposites in one.
But, as you rise from the sofa and leave the room,
I think it may be the SMALL velleities,
the hesitancies that danced around us,
like ghosts of summer butterflies,
the winter air.