The pieces of us

Okay, so you can’t say sorry,

but you can give a touch that

says you are still here wanting us,

in some form at least,

wanting the still warm fragments

of what we are and continue to be.


I expect nothing less than something

in this strange connection

that tunes out and in like outback radio,

and we listen out for each other

waiting for the tune that sometimes

comes in loud or soft or

as strange crackling noise.


No, you can’t say sorry for all you’ve done

and failed to do, but I have enough sorry

for the both of us as I scoop up

the precious fragments and bring them

to the greeting table once again.