Tuesday, 17 April 2012

Hotel (Day 17)

This is the hotel
which in that rain neither of us
could tell you it's name
or the face of the receiptionist
when you nodded off.

This is the room
when I tripped up near the bed
and the room
when you laughed so hard
the neighbours hit the walls.

This is the lock
which snapped in your hands
or the floor
where we first made love
and you bruised my back,

and the sea
where afterwards
you said to me
'Tell me,
you'll never forget this
will you?'

I've still got the bruises
on my left knee
to prove that.

(Day 17 off http://www.napowrimo.net/ asked us to write a poem addressed
to somebody. My poem told it as a fact really)

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