The Boats Ritual

Tomorrow, the 31st of January, I am planning another ritual to say goodbye to a relationship I've been finding it hard to let go of. I have written a poem and am making a lot of paper boats which I will float away on the tide. Here is the poem:

The Poem for the Ending

lost the lines of your tattoo on my brain

lost the water of your eyes in flight

everything is one foot
on the green
of that path beneath the trees
beside the sea,
when the last of the tiny shells on your back
has rubbed off on your lonely white sheets

the moon tells us false tales to hide
the nude histories
making us shameful
or boastful
or just silent

silent floating in salt water that isn't made out of your tears

but my knees and hips, spine
dance
my whole body into sexy oblivion
feet contacting a dirt floor
space outer limits of no brain activity -
getting high

and swings make kisses arise from deep down
down and determined to fail
for no reason but your
belief in the inevitability of failure

groping in darkness wanting to be fucked

some sometime, some somewhere
will it all become clear
like riding a bike in
a dream of tree-lined Leipzig roads
where your house is a red tent
amongst a block of concrete rubble?

it's departure time for the in too hot
and cold for me so I step out and
leave it all for a red-gold cliff

I fall and I will catch myself