Canto CCCL

A young Korean couple, tall and slender
practice the same balletic exchange.
She twirls,  catches his palm, attempts to wander

beyond the bubble of his arms’ wide span,
then stalls at the meridian of his grip.
They catch breath then repeat the move again

about a dozen times before they stop
and repose on the station platform bench.
Across from them, I squeeze the chubby chops

of baby daughter,  off with mum for lunch
in Peckham Rye, two measly stops away,
and yet I wish our goodbyes wouldn’t launch

them out of my patriarchal embrace,
I wish instead the gestures would repeat
as the world freezes on its spin through space,

and life’s a dance through which we never part.


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. peter litton
    Aug 16, 2012 @ 00:19:43

    I noticed this… when you write negative poetry (in grumpy old git mode) it never seems to work but when you write on things you care about your poetry becomes fluid and descriptive. This poem is a case in point.


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