In The Month Of Darkness/New Poem (Rough First Draft)
In The Month Of Darkness
I invited you in when talking
was more difficult than separating
fog from light.
When the distance between
myself and lunacy was nothing.
When my throat felt as though
I’d swallowed the universe whole.
I hadn’t put my makeup on.
My hair, racked into a plait,
hung down across my shoulders,
tensed as though ready for a fight.
Still you said I looked great.
You took your role seriously.
I didn’t need to smile because
you knew what I looked like
when I did.
You said my conversation
– when I got to it –
was stimulating, that depression
hadn’t eaten my magic.
You turned the TV over
to something funny, asked
if I wanted to go for a drive
to the coast. You’d buy me tea
and a McDonald’s if I wanted one.
We went. You ramped up the heating.
You knew about my iffy circulation.
I spilt my tea and wasn’t worried
about saying all the wrong things
because our history goes way back.
You’d seen inside the hood of my spirit
multiple times, and still decided
to be generous with your heart and time.
When you dropped me back home,
you hugged me over the gearstick.
You said we’d have to have coffee soon
and I knew you meant it. For the first time
during that dark month I smiled.