Too far to reach

your hand

Too far to see

your eyes

And will I find

again

if ever it was

the moment

I left in

or stand in

the imaginary place

of arrival

like the car ride

to the airport

and will the clothes now fit

or ever

Turning quickly

my ghost moves

like a shadow

on the wave

that chases itself

and for a morning

I can dance on clouds

until it rains

and where then?

on the green grass

of a morning’s sunrise

in the eternity

of a sky that is not black

And what of the angel

that is crouched?

a babe in wings

of departure

and how many

are there

whose clothes do not fit

because their 10ft wings

lie folded

in the rotting chrysalis

of a life

that does not fit