I was unsure about posting this poem as I think it says more than it shows, however, I shall let you decide.
I returned to the scene of my first wedding night
like some voyeuristic thief who must convince himself
that he has really got away scot-free
the hotel had long gone replaced by a car park
so I supposed the only physical memory
was the coat hanger I had taken away with me
you were missing of course
I walked streets
past closed shops
stood on the beach
the wind raised waves of fine sand
until it combined with the rain
to send us all in doors again
the cracked pavement
a broken mirror
reflecting the street lights up to the stars
There's not much to say about it as I think the poem contains the background. I wanted it to sound weary.
Annabelle Chvostek was performing recently in Montevideo, I wish I'd been there!
Until next time.