In the aftermath
of accidental love
there is a fallout
A nuclear disaster
of the worst kind
The casualties are hearts
Crisped and chipped
and disembowelled
and torn apart

And after the event
hearts that seemed
somehow untouchable
had begun to sing again
And as the volume
reached impervious heights
and dribbled vague unsounds
those hearts strummed
And sang for supper

You thawed me….
And I softened you
Just little things…
Your largish hands
On the small of my back
Like giant spades
On my slimmish spine
Your gentle kisses
Dropping in my dampened hair…

In the aftermath
There was presence
Your presence and mine
And we were dually qualified
For the purpose
At the time……….