TJ (17th June 1958 / England)

The Isle Of We

Sprawled in bed,
When we’ve tumbled
Into a tired tangle of arms and legs,
We stumble
Upon an entwining par excellence
Devoid of the usual numbed nerves,
Cramped calves
And pins and needles,
In which neither dare move a muscle
For fear of perfection interruption,
But instead send out stealth signals
Up and down the highways and byways
Of our bodies:
Reconnaissance missions
To reconnoitre and report,
To seek and enjoy
The feeling of not being able to feel
Our respective frontiers:
No Checkpoint Charlies;
No ‘Nothing to Declares’;
No lines;
No signs
To demarcate,
To separate;
No border,
No boundary –
Not even a nomansland
Between you and me.

For whole minutes at Eternity’s End
We lie like this:
I’m you
And you’re me
Or there’s no you and me at all:
Just we.

Then, inevitably,
There comes a twitch or stretch
To cut me off and cast me loose again
Upon a singular sea of me,
And I find myself Odysseus,
Seeking landfall on the Isle of We.

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Comments (2)

Tony, I relate to this wonderful word picture so well. Thank you, Jerry
What a wonderful picture pen-painted of such an intimate scene, and yes, felt by all who have shared this Land of Satisfaction in the same way Tony, but you have versed it into that which we would all describe could we have your masterly ability. I love the love story of this piece, and shall take it with me to my favourites.