Silent Partner
You were no older at forty
Than you had been at twenty:
Still a crucible of determination,
A force not to be undermined.
You’d absconded once, by God,
(Trailing your faith behind you,
Insufflating those newly baptized
Into your rituals.) (Matthew
Invoked the sacraments, made firm
The cavity walls, made firm
Your convictions; could snuff out too
The fugitive smell of an internee
(Hid between walls)
Giving out time by the back door.
You were too thin and convex
To be filled in that way:
Too emblazoned with the names
I and others stoked you with
And were still scavenging for
Amongst the ashes from which you’d fled.)
Had no compunction over doing so again.
You wanted words
I couldn’t mine.
What were gathered weren’t mine,
Weren’t yours, were stop gaps
Picked up off the floor, samples
We waited the results on,
Stipulations you made
For being uncaged.
Then you called it all off:
The search party was abandoned;
Old rules for a different time.
When the words finally came
They came like wildfire came like
A ravishing, but were quite spent:
Dropping dead out of the red air.
You’d done with all that:
There was not a word in the world
Could alter it, provide redefinition, rebirth.
But I was made
Silent partner to the you business:
Keeping the books you’d see burn
Curling around a cold flame.
