I knew you’d come

It was three weeks before the end of the world:
even the leaves were making for the exit 
and that Mennonite magic hovered 
among the hostas 

I knew you’d come:
the coyotes were calling
and the stones looked fragile

Pain is temporary, they say – 
until it isn’t:
I felt your fingers on my breast

While the politicians waited outside
making mistake after mistake
worshipping death

Not realising the implications
of the scars on their elbows, 
diving in like clowns

Why should I worry?
I knew you’d come

I knew you’d come
shining like gold in the darkness,
across the park and into the ice