She left town giving me her numbers, yes,
Write when you want, she said, I’d love to hear
your voice if you can find a way to call,
then bowing out she vowed her own body
would be where she found the one that wore me.
Electricity out, the phone lines down,
post offices closed from here to the South.
Who could have seen what would be forthcoming?
No, I who did nothing but sleep and wake
to see the world incoming through TV,
its sweeping panoramas, the spot-on
reports from the front that’s found everywhere . . .
Prevented to love every way I turned,
I snuffed the flame touching you in the dark.
(28 November, 9 December 2013)
copyright 2013 by Floyce Alexander