Amnesia

We parted, then.
Then I knew her intimately,
Biblically.
While victors craft their histories
I scrawl a mockery of her face
With a crayon.
More than her cheeks have more than a hint of rose.
She’s still leaving me.

Others are left too,
But left with
A face,
Indelible as a Cheshire Cat.
She was colourful, I’m sure of that.
The past was my mistress.
Aah, the times we had when I had her
And we both had time.

Each grain on her powdered face is
A tear
Meticulously dried, a taxonomy of sorrow.
And I can feel her, oh yes, her breath
Freezes my chest –
Condenses, a mist
My roots fix.
I can’t see her.

My past is a painted Geisha,
Hair high and dry, arms akimbo,
Kimono enfolding her skeleton and her secrets
And I see her in the distance
Make-up blurring to a rainbow
– She is bobbing
Goodbye.
She’s always leaving me.


16/02/01
First Published in Orbis, May '04