Ten years later
by Claire King
Are you asleep? He says.
Wake up.
In the morning…
You forget me, he says.
Long city nights and fine merlot,
a pillion along the embankment.
I do not forget you,
The 3am scent of salt on your skin,
your tentative advances when I ached to drag you into me.
You forget me,
A phone waiting to ring.
Nothing certain; a crossroads, a chance.
I do not forget you,
At my side,
Quaking promises before our friends.
You forget me,
The man before the father,
the bare feet and the muscles.
I do not forget you,
You are all this and more,
And will still be, once I have slept.
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Poignancy in this one, an echo of sadness. Forget me not blues.
Yearning too, as this line admits: "your tentative advances when I ached to drag you into me".
Def fav, Claire.
Oh, I LIKE this so much. Love the dialogue, the resistance, the worry, the love.
The last part, beginning with
You forget me,
The man before the father,
the bare feet and the muscles.
is so very very good. Esp the last line. It touches a truth, a beauty, a reality.
I don't have any background in prose poetry, but I did enjoy reading TEN YEARS and that's the mark of a good writer. As with others, the story did interest my prurient.
You use of italics in the format is impressive and effective.
a beautiful completion to this, title through last word
Oh, Beate, thank you for finding this, I'd forgotten it was here.