He really did not know
for how much longer
he could hold on to her
and still be dishonest
He had walked far more
than he had drunk –
but still staggered
along the loose path
off which his love for her
dipped like a slunk ghost –
then she was there –
caught by a car’s high beam –
then she was inverted
like a shadow between trees –
as if his recall of her
had been politely dimmed
as if they were long-divorced
from each other –
that common vote for failure –
which is the wedded norm