Back When
living,
you said,
on an island
like we always fantasised
back when we were young
back when life was less
complicated,
back when...
i was jealous
like you'd achieved
something
ticked the ultimate
life goal
finished the bucket
list
(did you ever write a
novel?)
and swam in the
reservoir of life
while all I ever did
was muck about in the
foetid pool
of other people's
desires
wondering where my life
went
and wanting my youth
back.
the boat was small,
piloted by a fisherman
with broken nets
who treated me like a
mad woman
though happy to accept
money
from hands lined with
experience.
your island a speck on
the horizon
growing larger with
each minute
passed in mute silence
until I could recognise
the ruin of a church
and a black flag
flapping in the breeze
by a dilapidated jetty.
he wouldn't dock
or land on the shore
of a quarantined island
your friend's dead, he
said, or soon will be
abandoned to typhoid
think yourself lucky.
and I remembered back
when
your smile, your laugh
and your promise of
forever
as I slipped from the
boat
and swam to shore.
2 comments:
Fabulous! It's good to read one of your poems again Rachel :)
You're very kind, Rose :)
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