Unquestioning

If you are asking me if I love you,
The answer is hours and days and weeks long.
The answer is moonlit mornings, and arid nights
When not even the draught from my single-glazing
Could unvarnish the wooden heat.
The answer furrs my tongue like guzzled ice-cream
and it will not pour or even drip.
It is the hummingbird I become when you're near.
The answer is hostage in my eyes and it's the
Plastic explosives I keep in my shoes. The answer
Is terror, the answer is stark and yes,
See how the answer breaks me down brick by brick.

If you are asking me if I will take you back,
Then the answer becomes longer still.
The answer becomes days alone in places we booked.
The Alhambra is mighty without you, and my hand
Sweats less without yours in mine but I will be alone.
The answer is that song playing out its errors
Sticking on the last verse. Stick sticking stuck
Without you to restart the track. The answer takes
Years to pronounce, years of grey and of tapered trousers.
The answer swallows my childbearing years and sees
Another in my arms, seed in my still-speaking womb.
The answer is in the quiet moments when your photograph
Walks and greets me. The answer is in my grave,
And the space beside where your corpse will not lie.