The Fool

A flash-fire of burning desire

comes over me in an instant,

before it all filters back through

and the feeling drains from my face once again.

You are disabling to my knees -

it's lucky I'm curled up on the sofa

with nowhere to fall;

but I'm already in free-fall

as I set the glass down with a clink

and my eyes seem to have no more to give

now that I've given so much.

Am I just to play the Fool again?

I swim in cards

dwelling over my palms and my deep, chained heart line

that she knew signalled my inability.

And of all things, you want to be here when I am not.

Will they taste my anguish in the air?

Will you lay your head down here just as I do now,

a net of broken bones cradled by blackness,

waiting for just one sign

as the scaffolding is built up around me

where I had lain naked in the sun imagining you touching the very heart of me;

now, O you metal and wood skeleton, I would that you encastle my soul here

and guard against these bleeding ghosts.

O watch you for one stalwart knight

to storm upon this prison

and let her know I will have her, if she will have me,

for I keep a torch burning through every night

in the hope that she will see it from her far-distant land,

and I will endure every hurt sevenfold just for one more embrace

or the kiss that will wake me from this nightmare.