Northern Rain Mask
(for and after Gerard Rudolf)
Remember the
first time I laid eyes on you?
Another cold
afternoon.
You turning in
widening circles
in that train
station in Edinburgh .
Were you
wearing black
Pashmina
for a funeral?
Were my first
words to you about weather?
Something
mundane at least.
Did you say, You are very tall?
Did I reply, I lie about my height.
Did I fall in
love with you there and then?
In all our
brutal years together
we left each
other nailed to walls;
gutted in so
many houses,
disembowelled
by sex.
I am sorry,
for my part at least.
Your cruelty
is your business.
We made so
much rain between us,
with not so
much as a tribal mask.
I am drinking
latte in the place
where we first
made plans
near your ex
boyfriend’s flat.
Rain runs down
the window.,
I am reading,
‘Orphaned Latitudes’.
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