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.

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