Member Poem

Your face does not forget the bitter past
‘Here are my wounds’, it says, ‘this is my blood’
– those laser eyes would burn me if they could,
your pleasantries are laced with broken glass.

But I say some things were not meant to last.
All changes once that truth is understood.
An early end awaits the greatest good,
the brightest flame will always burn too fast.

I suffered too, you know – here are my scars.
I wear them not with anger but with pride,
mementoes of that wild white-water ride,
earth-shaking, epoch-making love of ours.
Far better than pale lives we might have had
it had to end: it would have sent us mad.

First published in Extreme Sonnets (Rhizome Press)