Orienteering the Underworld
With a box of tricks and gleaming sextant
I can visit you
Time being the limit of my peregrination
Stepping over mandrakes and staring into deep pools
Is a fine measured business, one that I learned long ago
The art of losing things and forgetting are ancient skills
That you mastered with ease
I was always good at finding your spectacles or your pills.
I am sure I can manage with this compass and torn map
That I finagled from a side drawer in a dream –
Somewhere in your bedroom I am still sleeping
To the sound of the kettle boiling in an empty room
You stepped out for a moment, for a cigarette, maybe?
Never to return.
Veronica Aldous 2016 All rights reserved