I’m standing at the window, waiting for
The cloud’s half-hunter to unclip the moon,
A pebble yowl, uniquely nondescript,
So this last week’s equation stays unsolved
Inside the jotter, sum of many parts.
You found me though and play a small guitar,
Somewhere behind me. I envisage you
Cross-legged at the centre of my room.
Since you have stripped off, I resolve to start
The correlation, shape up things to come,
To pull the wishbone, shed some light on you.
You tell me that your firebrand days have waned;
The night grows hotter. High time you explained
Just where you’ve been, that brand new heart tattoo.