General   (General discussion, talk about anything.)

SNOW IN MADEIRA


So much time has elapsed,
and now the fields are waterlogged.
I picture you
sitting on the quay,
elegantly smoking your french cigarette,
looking far out to sea.

Here,
the rain washes away
all that was before, and all is gone.
But your name is still on the boards,
there for all to see,
highlighted in orange for the trees of home.

I sometimes think of the distance between us:
the raging blue Atlantic
stretching beyond the harbour lights;
the days and weeks
of winter into spring,
and the endless nights.

Someone mentioned you today,
and asked how you were,
where you were living,
I told them you'd gone,
back to the bench on the quayside,
looking far out to sea
across the great beyond.

I lied,
of course,
wishing that maybe it was true...
but knowing that the five miles of reality
are but over the black hill,
separating me and you.

Such folly.
We keep the past participles:
all is ended,
all ties are broken.
And still they ask about you
as if nothing has changed:
and I tell them, the truth unspoken,
my lies,
my myths and my fiction:

You are sitting on the quay,
smoking your French cigarette-
wrapped in your warm winter coat-
looking far out to sea...

And there is snow in Madeira...


Jarvo 2020