Swoop
2

Swung:
my mood has swung
to heavy–eyed unhappiness.

Once we’ve seen the play
“she’ll stay with an old friend”:

not
to let
the chance
of us
establishing.

And, so foolishly,
I said some words of hope,
just once, elsewhere.

Now chatterers,
they swoop this privacy
and incomprehend so perfectly
they could be the pissing–in–the–wind parents
of a children’s film.

I fear their rumours spread
like hay fever
on a summer breeze.

I’ll call her,
hear if—
just hear.





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