says she’s not feeling well.
has talked to her supervisor.
is waiting for the paramedics.
a pain in her chest,
just like the one she had
when we went camping,
Annan and I, two years back,
tented in a mobile free zone.
Katherine ferried her to the A&E;
tested for cardiac events in her blood.
some anomalies detected, told to take care.
i say i’m on the way.
she says she’ll be waiting.
there’s no traffic.
every light is green.
i see only you, waiting,
the tremors of your faltering heart
fuelling the uxorious engine pulling me to you.
many miles to cross. many frantic miles to go.
i can only see you, just you, waiting….
she’s covered when i arrive.
They tried, they say, but….
everything fades to noise….
obscure i open and close, my skinned petals dropping,
roots shrivelling in this sudden drought.
when there is nothing, when I have been emptied,
I hear you say, “our daughters will be waiting for you.”
I turn knowing what I must be.