1927: The Almost Sestina Of The Condemned Man
The sand sparkled like the bracelet you wore
The first time you ever caught my eye.
Our sweet seas were gold, refracting cold hearts
And washing Magdelene memories away as our
Bus-stop poured the blank men into their rust-red
Tin-can and the shouts of the gulls drowned your sighs.
I'm not here, really, not since you sliced me down to size,
Faux-vicious, cute-coffined in the dress you wore.
You told me it wasn't scarlet - it was red -
And I couldn't look you in the eye;
I was small then, squashed, stricken by the hour
And pumped free of need by your art.
Cold it was: we spent lifetimes unliving my heart
And ignoring the plaintive wail of kids' sighs
As time dragged in that small white hour
And the sand and faith and lotions we wore
Stared, winked, blinked and yawned, fierce and lonely and I
Offered you white wine and you drank only red.
They showed me the photos after: meat-raw and red
And I knew I didn't mean it. It wasn't in my heart
To kill you - not like that anyway - and I
Knew I'd only done it to quieten your sighs
To prove what they said wasn't true: you're no whore,
Just someone who breaks hearts by the hour.
Justifiable homicide: no defence in our
Lost land and - despite what I read
About you, your life, your songs, the clothes you wore -
I know, deep, deep down, that there was a heart
That never wanted me to feel like this, to hear your sighs
And find new victims - ha! - to look in the eye.
So I head for the courtyard, stare the corporal in the eye
Instead, wonder why they chose this unearthly hour
To undo me. I hear imagined lovers' sighs
As they take aim with their absurd ritual: hate-red
And noble, a reminder of who's in charge, craft and art
Merging as I regret - on this day I die - the shirt I wore
But there's no more sighs: I look each in the eye,
Drop the pride I wore, accept the dark hour,
Drink down its warm red and - for you - stop my heart.