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POETRY

Leaving and Leaving You

More poems from the book:

Leaving and Leaving You

When I leave your postcode and your commuting station,
When I leave undone the things that we planned to do,
You may feel you have been left by association,
But there is leaving and there is leaving you.

When I leave your town and the club that you belong to,
When I leave without much warning or much regret,
Remember, there’s doing wrong and there’s doing wrong to
You, which I’ll never do and I haven’t yet,

And when I have gone, remember that in weighing
Everything up, from love to a cheaper rent,
You were all the reasons I thought of staying
And you were none of the reasons why I went

And although I leave your sight and I leave your setting
And our separation is soon to be a fact,
Though you stand beside what I’m leaving and forgetting,
I’m not leaving you, not if motive makes the act.


The Norbert Dentressangle Van

I heave my morning like a sack
of signs that don’t appear,
say August, August, takes me back...
          That it was not this year...
say greenness, greenness, that’s the link...
          That they were different trees
does not occur to those who think
in anniversaries.

I drive my morning like a truck
with a backsliding load,
say bastard, bastard, always stuck
          behind him on the road.
(although I saw another man
          in a distinct machine
last time a Dentressangle van
was on the A14).

I draw my evening like a blind,
say darkness, darkness, that’s
if not the very then the kind...
          That I see only slats...
say moonlight, moonlight, shines the same...
          That it’s a street-lamp’s glow
might be enough to take the name
from everything we know.

I sketch my evening like a plan.
I think I recognise
the Norbert Dentressangle van...
          That mine are clouded eyes...
say whiteness, whiteness, that’s the shade...
          That paint is tins apart
might mean some progress can be made
in worlds outside the heart.


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