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The baby and the bathwater
You said that if you did, you’d have to live
With it. The desire to harness the sun and wind
For power was everything: renewable energy
The alternative, the only answer. Coming from
Such a desolate place I was soon comfortable with
My heart’s polarity, ready to be drawn to an open field
With you exposed to all that the world could give.
But you wanted me earthed and in the garden,
Turned, what was for you, true—not magnetic—north.
Then suddenly the weather changed: air filled with resistance:
And in those bleak and breathless moments following
You fell back on batteries and familiar habits—
All the while knowing I never was mechanically minded.
Right now I feel like a fossil fuelled by anger, baby,
A product past its use by date. In the morning
I’ll be poured out like used water… Then, like water
Which always finds its level, settle, recycle.
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