Human Geology

Of us two she is the one
who loves to travel.
Perhaps it is the turmoil
of a journey she loves,
the relish of breaking bonds.
For her, the terror
is in the barricades we build.
Two encrusted lives form
a geology of time,
in which patterns set deep
in the soil of bodies.
As we circle, paths are carved
around the same gestures.
Her flushed ecstacy
created this dark pungent corner
in our life,
which I visit often.
And would I have found
this garden, with its
luxuriant violets,
had I not pursued her
gloomy silence to its depths?
These familiar landscapes,
are the wreckage of entwined lives,
amidst which we now live,
dug deep in the hollows of ourselves.
I find great pleasure
in being the mole
who burrows in this place
and comes again upon a familiar
bend in her body.
But these habits cling to her,
become hooks that
torment the lightness of a soul.
Somewhere in her
an older craving rustles
and disdains this subterranean life.
She remembers that long ago
terrible wanderers came riding down
in the spring months
from where wild things still lived,
and laid civilisation to waste.

Copyright Ricky Barrow 2013

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