Love songs of the 21st century.
Coming
downstairs at half three, Tracy calls him.
“Are
you coming? Come to bed! It’s nearly morning.”
The
television noises drown his answer.
A
video running, she can see it’s porno.
“Yes,
okay, I won’t be long.” She hovers.
“Eternal Flame.” She drifts into
the kitchen,
Puts
on the kettle, makes a cup of coffee.
Some
toast, to take upstairs, a sort of comfort.
Much
later turns the light out, falls asleep.
Sandra
O’Grady, chased into the kitchen,
Dodges
Tommy’s boot, turns to escape.
“A many splendoured thing…” Tries to push past him,
She
doesn’t know why things have gone this badly.
This
time he came home drunk and broke the window,
Threatened
to kill her, called her ugly names.
As
Sandra grabs him, Tommy lifts the kettle,
Pours
scalding water on her face and arm.
She
runs outside, doesn’t know where to go.
“He’s
late again tonight. Where has he gone?”
The
clock ticks on, regular, terrifying.
Danny
McMasters stands up, sets his glass down.
Another
whiskey? Better not, this evening.
“I get no kick from champagne… Where are you, Trevor?”
Trevor
comes home. It’s after one. He’s swaying.
His
cheeks are red, rubbed by designer stubble.
“Who
were you with?” “Who with? Who
cares?” No answer.
Dan
pours two drinks, there’s nothing else to do.
Chased
by romantic visions, we jump wildly
Fearful
of missing out, pushed by our bodies,
Out
of the open doorway,
Over
the edge,
Spinning
out into danger.
Circling
in the slipstream
The
parachute unzipped too late,
Rips
with the weight.
Over
the cliff edge
Into
the valley
Of
dead men piled
With
bony parts protruding.
