Separation's Stand

a mind holds its other
through the
delicate clumsinesses
of distance

and loneliness;

it bumps and falls to
reach that next corner;
embodied in dreams
that bridge the nightly weir,
a viaduct of desires
that span from the here

to the there;

in a balancing act
between differing sides
of the same scaffold

hangs the mind,

warehousing the touch and scent
that give its thoughts form;
wares lined up to be sold
on separation's stand

to ease up the load
of a choking mind,

yet it saves the best
until I see you next,
wondering whether
you'll be changed,

as changed as the earth
through the seasons,
will you smell of spring,

or autumn?

will you bring
scented spices from
newly discovered lands
for me to discover

on yours;

bitter-tangy horizons
of tickling taste
to rise on the tip
of a mesmerised tongue?

or will you as before
melt with my own?
a blending to explain
perfectly as no word
can hope to do,

that we are one
divided into two.

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