the decline

A couple of weeks ago it seemed just an option, a possibility to be tossed into the space between us, a thing without substance.

I said; I’ll wait, see how it goes, perhaps next week….

He said; why not do it tomorrow, don’t you think?

I agreed because it had no attachment, still ephemeral, not yet weighted and fleshed out with meaning.

Last week I thought not a moment too soon. I thought how well he knows me. I thought please let it be soon enough.

 

I turn over and see the clock. 3.50am. A time for snuggling a baby to the breast, a time for night workers, a time when life ebbs.

3.50am. A time when thoughts spiral into the abyss and the irrational takes substance. A time filled with dread.

 

Three hours later the day is already weary, expectations exhausted.


Appearances are deceptive.

One thought on “the decline

  1. I think this is terrific! Have you read any Jon Macgregor? The last two lines don’t fulfill the promise of the rest of the poem – can you finish it and maintain the vivid story-telling? The rest I love – moved me.

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