I'd remember one evening in the pouring rain,
bounding of you in white scarf wrappings,
hustle-and-bustle down sidestreets where
canal waters lap-wash together above your feet with sky-fall,
the January timetable marked with gifts and
nights spent in with turf-fed fire and parchment
for company, I looked at you in shaded regret's blue.
Half-seven time read flashing on your expression,
I was blank, chipped-away as crossing sign paint,
cold digging you scanned for something better-mended,
minding umbrella hat strokes, turning up-side out,
it could scarcely be found in this skin's state.
The last of bearings could be challenged through bitten lip,
bone-soaked half-literary pretension I took everything
to be, and not be; houses in distance so close,
we stepped beneath our porch lights, becoming shadows.