Arm’s Length

And when we near the end
waiting for the solar wind
to strip the hydrogen from water

for the Sun to swell, oceans
stir and roil, when mountains
fail and crowds like starlings

swirl and eddy, switch
from one messiah to the next
no one will give a fig

that once my fingers stretched
for yours while we were each
sleeping with another.

Rosemary Badcoe
 
If you have any comments on this poem,  Rosemary Badcoe  would be pleased to hear from you.