Will you break the silence or shall I?
Like the glass carpet on the Cam deep winter
or shall we sit in shrieking silence quietly smouldering
breathing pure resentment like oxygen,
as watching the gardener’s bonfire late afternoon
Slightly spitting and fading to bitter orange.
But perhaps we’ll brush it all aside – just for now
dress up, go out, talk small
like neighbours meeting in the town pretending everything is fine
in the creeping fog of an afternoon’s blank white sky.
Possibly we’ll just push doors, exit rooms, seethe frost
but best of all – I hope we’ll pull on our boots and coats
go out into the winter woods, snap some twigs, disturb some leaves
and talk it through until we melt.