LOVE ALONG THE AIRE.

I felt as though the twine that held
My organs up had snapped and
Dropped them round my guts;
All jumbled ruptures.
Those strings would play a different
Tune after that day.

There above the stone of Malham Cove,
Astride the Pennine Way,
Where nothing but the look you
Gave denied the weather’s
Touch, I found direction,
Though indirectly mine.

And that’s why men don’t fall in love these days:
They can’t endure it,
They’re ill equipped;
Unprepared to be addressed by
Words that seek confession...
She’s the only woman I ever
Wrote poetry for.