Points West Poem by Paul Brookes

We no longer touch,
our compasses no longer align
yours points west, mine south.

Sitting like strangers, cold and stiff next barren beach.
side by side on the cast iron bench,
its Victorian curlicues and dragon feet
obscured in layers of flaking paint.

you look outwatching the sea its
vast grey green immensity heaving to my heart beats
sucking at the vast landscape of yellow sand.
lines of foam running up to crash in an explosion of bubbles.


your eyes look blank, unfocused and reflecting,
what you are seeing I cannot tell.
or are you remembering better times when laughing was easy.


lightlytoughing your shoulder with a feather weight
I rest my fingers, you do not brush it off.
but sigh and shake your head as if returning from a dream.
you smile vague and sad eyes refocusing
and look at me as if for the first time
when we were strangers.

funny you said it should end where it began
and I felt the stone heavy in my stomach fall
leaving and empty space full of nothingness.


then stretching you rise cat like and agile,
you always were graceful next to my clumsy two left feet.
then you walked away no turning back no final glance
at my frozen form.

watching you till you turned the corner
and out of sight through the tracks of my tears.
the wind soughed, ruffling my hair,
it seemed to say there is no consolation here
and I shivered knowing you had walk upon the grave of our love.