Rapprochement (Glosa)
Maybe it happens one night, driving
Through an unknown suburb, the realisation
That nothing is going to change, the time
Will never come for explanation –
Too Late by Ruth Fainlight
Admitting something is wrong starts the trauma.
Something needs to shift in the relationship.
A forgiveness or a reason to end reliving.
You want to preserve the early enchantment
from when it was good, find that frame of mind –
maybe it happens one night, driving
when you can’t sleep. Searching for some activity
to keep the gnawing dream silent, the one
where you’re searching for a letter, a notation
to show your boss and folders turn into birds,
a choir misdirects you out of a hotel
through an unknown suburb, the realisation
that this is a dream and you can wake up,
The realisation that the dream will metastasize
until you find a way to stop its pantomime
disturbing sleep. Your subconscious voice nagging
at the root of perception – persuading you
that nothing is going to change, the time
to act is now. Try to formulate a plan
but that wily tangle of feeling and hurt
bangs about your skull, a dull pool of stagnation,
unless you try – so make the call, drive over,
perhaps the last time to try or the chance
will never come for explanation.
Sue Spiers has managed to get a poem commended in the last three years of the Binstead/South Downs poetry competition and Jonathan Edwards used the word ‘great’ in his comments on her Ware prize commendation.