A Ride by the Lake

I guess it made sense
to ride by the lake
where we'd apparently
fallen in love,
and see it under renovation;
It had seemed so remote,
so real.

You'd eaten a clover
and winced with its sour
after failing to blow free
the parachutes of a dandelion.

Now the entire lawn
was rolled into bales,
exposing its underside,
clearly a carpet.

The trees lay prone,
their roots exposed
as muddy mops of perished wire.

Also baskets of little things:
the insects, the dandelions
and yes,
the clovers (It must have tasted bland and rubbery those years ago.).

I'd dived naked into the water;
I'd heard you liked spontaneity
and had tried to coax you in;
I couldn't.
(You’d laughed though and fiddled with little things that grew and flew.)

I'd free-stroked
and held my breath
for what for you I hoped seemed like
a reckless length of time.

Now the lake lay dry;
cleaners swept sediment
from the fibreglass bed
and attentively
scrubbed the seams;
I doubt there'd ever been fish.

I guess it made sense
to ride by the lake
where we'd apparently
fallen in love,
and see it under renovation;
It had seemed so remote,
so real.

Some Certainties

Someday my love,

Death’s shoulder will pry us asunder,

And scatter the colours of this bubble

Afar where they will run and mix.

For my part until then,

I will pull in the corners of this portrait

And tend to the vertices of our union,

Adorn the walls with romance

Kind words and attempts,

And relish our unlikeliness

Each day my love.