when my love swears that she is made of truth
the words come down the wrong half
we can’t - we are – learning unlearned
I do believe her, though I know she lies
in the world's false subtleties
not the half, the other we will learn to speak
not the half, the other we will learn to speak
although she knows my days are past the best
helpless helpless, paralysed
I credit her false-speaking tongue
it’s coming spent, it’s half through
it’s coming spent, it’s half through
but wherefore says she is not, she is
hard to describe
hard to describe
therefore I lie with her, and she with me,
it’s half through, we hope it will
it’s half through, we hope it will
BE.
Anonymous
31st July 2009