Piccadilly out
onto the park
tourists glare
coffee burns
the man from nowhere
pauses.
Up there
Trafalgar Square
lovers loiter as
lovers do, and you
are beyond cloud
above call beneath heaven.
I’m not alone
there’s that pull
in the gut
the vague apprehension
that something’s
been forgotten
Amputated limb,
lost shoe
crying child,
all of these
are easier to comfort
than my stolen heart.
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