Wednesday, May 11

At Last

A wedding song
fit for love I played
our first night

It is ours – or it
was I am no William
but you in 14 songs

Fourth of December’s
Etta James ,pallbearer
to mine sadness

, has vinyl spun
round & horns over
a Polaroid of you

sat on my living
room floor laughing
like a chorus

If my day might
could may get worse:
I—‘Come on, then’

At least 14 months
since Am I not stronger
for time is dock leaf

as love nettles?
The record played entirely
while I stood

& swayed to the
tune of our memories’
yellow nostalgia

It span me back
to green’s district line
when the morning

commute was Etta’s
hymnal to our love that
I grew into through

moments away from
you, or life not as good
as you made it

so keen to come
in the door & see you pale
away the day

in the smile over
your body, the evening
as magnificence

with your surname
where Etta James sung
& that L.P.

picked tonight above
any other, because either I
wished to conquer

or to have you here
in this sonic hole & things
not so bad as without.

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