The Forms of Despair
We returned from the war happier, arms around our shadows –
Who claimed to be older than us. They told great jokes
And lay around barefoot, hair precisely
Unkempt, cigarettes hissing and glowing like christmas lights.
Only our fiancées were tired and bothersome,
Having forgotten how to love, or vice versa.
Some had moved to factories in other cities,
Others, when pressed, said, ‘No-one’s forcing you to put up with
We went skating with our shadows,
Huddled under fir trees drinking sausage tea.
Inquisitive sheep collected around our camp;
It was good to be among the ice storm and the believers.
We described the funny pages to Simon – who had lost both his
But the jokes didn’t work so well in description.
First published in The Migraine Hotel (Salt Publishing, 2009).
Read about Luke and The Migraine Hotel here.
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