The stopper

by Rob Miles

                       lifted and all we did
undoes, unfixes

beneath this weight of days retuned
to weightlessness

                                    in wilderness, each field
                                    or beach

         and every forest found, that late-night bath

                                               we ran, my fingers parting
                   tangled strands, our tracks

in crops or sand

                             then every moon phase

                                                        slowly foaming over
your sore shoulders, risen blades

                    of floating grass, more hidden notes
                                           all unforgotten, unshared

                                                          and thoughts

                    where I drift, but stand