Monday, 3 April 2017
poetry 2017 / 039
Satellite of Love
Wishing on a shooting star
that turns out to be an old satellite
in a decaying orbit
burning against the outer edges
of a twilight atmosphere.
My wish, forgotten now,
against the memory of my love for you,
burning in the toxic atmosphere
of your casual disregard.
Do you remember me at all?
I still sing the song you wrote
the one about you being in love
(just not with me.)
It's been twenty years
and I can't remember the words
but it really doesn't matter.
No-one remembers Castor and Pollocks anyway.
Anyway, you must be way old now
and I can barely remember your face,
though our two dogs were my best friends
and I never saw them again.