'Tintagel' (Cornwall)

Tintagel   

(Cornwall) 

I want to rise in steam

from the leafy thrust
of hot public gardens
and anchor in the skies above Tintagel

where the postmistress
and the lading-clerk,
loveless through years of cargo,
of letters insulted by boot-heel and rain,
fall at last in each other’s way.

                                                                            

I shall be the promenade
that opens blue
between her corsage and his gravy stains

the engine of an evening’s walk
idling

the something that aligns her daring toes
with his better-days leather.

I shall, a moment on,
be the pinch-gap
of thumb and finger
lifting ill-chosen pie from his breath
and a lifetime’s disabling catch
from hers

so words come
so a murmur outcrooks his elbow
so another hinges her resinous fingers

within it
just so
henceforward.

(from Come To Pass, Oversteps Books, www.overstepsbooks.com)