It’s all a game

Round you go,

upside down,

ducking under,

swaying aside.

 

Questions dodged

like an intense game of squash

except the rules have changed.

 

Step to,

dance across,

turn a bend,

walk away.

 

You have never changed.

Phone line

I ask you where your eyes

find light – your mouth

falls down the back wall

to the receiver, hanging

limp by its cord, mumbling

love and family like trickles of water

flowing into a drain. Not

a downpour. Perhaps

I should have asked

a different question.

One that you’re more comfortable with?