Bound
As the sun
slowly heals the night burns bright
Prometheus can
see far across the valley
can read the
smoke drifting dispersing
almost smell the singed fat and bone
watch the
figures in the landscape
ploughing building
toiling
note the shadows
of birds
skimming the
fields
a dove an eagle
umbrae of an
approaching
vulture
…
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The bends
Love is surely the same for some of us
the seemingly original addiction to touch
and being touched the anticipation
the seemingly endless gratification
how everything is too little and too much
the spiralling descent into paradise
only to find the oxygen thin the lack of sky
So begins the slow tortuous attenuation of desire
then the raging ascent rising for a breath of air
and towards the end surfacing into endless ocean
with nothing or no one to grasp or cling to and
the blood fizzing in the brain and the bends.
