Tuesday Tunes [on a Wednesday] – Poetry Through Music, #35, 2015


[Image from No Dig Vegetable Garden]

[Inspired by Glowworm’s “Contrails”:]

Like waves dragged out to sea

on an ebbing tide,

she felt him

drawing away from her, inch by inch.

A creeping sense of loss

she wouldn’t allow to become

as inevitable as oceanic pattern.


his body didn’t contour as it used to

in bed at night, skin breathing the other’s

skin.  A chill of a millimetre’s width

snuck between them as he fought

demons he didn’t care to share

with her.

She was losing him again.

She knew

this time it wasn’t her fault;

was entirely her fault.

As she sipped the coffee his mother

had bought for them, drank

the hot liquid from one of her mugs,

she watched him dig,

make war with the earth.

What had she done?

A thin pane of glass, rattling

against the buffeting breeze,

stood between them.

They may as well have been


by continents.

The mug trembled in her hands

as she remembered the recent past;

and realised the potential future.

Alone, never to be together,


by forces intangible; lunatic.

She tried to understand, but

where to start when the catalyst

was murder?

Placing the mug in the sink,

she gripped the kitchen counter top

with fingers curled like talons, as if

she could rip into its surface

for sustenance; for answers.

Outside, the shovel scraped a rhythm

for his sorrows, digging a shallow grave

for his happiness.  She wept,

mourned what could have been;

what might never be permitted now.

Don’t leave me.

She’d thought the words more times

than she could remember, spoken them

only the once,

but her voice was insubstantial as

a ghost’s.

They each were dying, hand in hand.

[Copyright © N R Nolan 2015]