Blood Moon

Next week is our last and we, so contented

yet, the sting of leaving waits

there, in the distance, a tiny death

we do not mention it in words

but it is there and I can sense it smiling

the smile of an eternal victor

 

it wasn’t there at the beginning, or rather

it was so far away, so small, as to be unnoticed

halcyon days, halcyon weeks and we, contented

as anyone ever was, as everyone should be

glimpsing the heaven that was promised to me

on grey days by grey men long ago

 

that gift of guilt they gave to us

guilt with claws that nestles still

between our vertebrae

guilt that is a stone in my shoe

a constant reminder that there are others

more deserving of it all

 

there is a lunar eclipse tonight in these clear Mediterranean skies

it is a perfect moment, another perfect moment

and I relax and realise that, already, I am too late

and as the guilt stirs

I wish our last week away and yearn to be home and

I stare at the blood moon, and the blood moon stares back