On Ice- Michaela James
I watch the glass ease
so easily, half empty
a picturesque delusion
of happiness, mocking
as the second hand floats
slowly by stuttering at twelve,
my shutters blurring
the consequence of
‘who am I’?
the solitary figure fatigued,
every word expelled
34 years, unheard
tears dissipate
desert my sodden sleeve
run faster, every human
being I have touched
my awkwardness laid lame
beneath one star I long for
to embrace, childlike
I dance my forbidden route,
walk the lush green mile
hand in hand as you
my saviour, servant
of the night we will be.