When the lies in the night away from her
the backs of his eyelids burn.
He turns in the darkness as if it were an oven.
The flesh parches and he lies awake
thinking of everthing wrong.
He remembers the name of a man
and a weekend before they loved each other.
His mind in its tight corner
watches a scene by the ocean last summer.
Or is it next summer he watches?
In the morning when he goes to meet her,
his heart struggles at his ribs
like an animal trapped in its burrow.
Then he sees her running to meet him,
red-faced with hurry and cold.
She stumbles over the snow.
Her knees above orange knee-socks
bob in a froth of the hems
of skirt and coat and petticoat.
Her eyes have not shut all night.
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檢舉原因
心情: 
