Abacus
Mother said
you were the clever one,
your smile an abacus
always pretending to be right.
I was too quite –
Disconnected,
a bland moon
to your sun
and you galloped,
letting me stray behind
in adoration.
I followed,
feet like temples,
my eyes callow
and withdrawn,
just wishing the ground
would make up its mind
for once;
that you would turn around
slowly,
letting me drink down
the miles beneath us
and get lost
in what you meant to tell me.
Burlesque Press 