Sad Arrow.

Sad arrow rips
Feather fall from
Horizon-to-horizon-grey
Heavens; my heart is a
Lead-skin, slow drum.
Ghost-lit snow has
Settled on the stream:
Concealing all we
Thought we knew,
All we thought we had,
Or had dealt with;

No signs of the past –
The water under the
Monochrome bridge –
Of what we held to be
The future, so foolish-confident
It seems from here,
From now –
If it existed at all –
There is no sign.

Every winter-heavy step I take
Away from her is
A kiss, a caress
I will never feel.

It doesn’t always pay
To trust the truth
Or to doubt the trust.

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