Here is a heel-scrape
of composite on tarmac -
it announces my approach -
punctuated by my stick's click
of loosenings - of turned threads
on its retractable -
snappable -
black shaft -
And - by the way -
how can I hold you
with my love now limped
by other indiscretions?
It is hard . . .
Sorry, access to full poetry content is now restricted.