I see you, walking in bodies of three
The good, the bad, the ugly
Wandering like the sanctified feet of Moses
Casting out your hands in gestures of utterances
Looking like your mind is bounded by the lines of your salvation on opposite sight
I see, you’ve let go of memories of me
Your infatuation has ceased over these many inordinate years
Your need for me to teach you my mother’s tongue has out grown you
You no longer recognise the tribes on my face
The parted sea in my mouth
The staff behind my words
Your choice of me to be the mark or the henry. Both on a bad day
I see you are no longer checking for me
You’ve found yourself another target, haven’t you?
She’s good, she’s pretty, she is the one whose tongue you do not envy as much
She is plain, isn’t she?
I see you, walking back in bodies of three
I never expected less, you always looked like you’d be the one to make it
We did too.