A Pagan And A Cook

If we are the end of death,
Then I’ll pause and savour this breath.
If we are just fistfuls of dust blowing our way west,
We are also as good as a guess.

A pagan and a cook had to share a body.
She managed to hold it together quite admirably
She took to seeing crows commuting over the city
As signals against misfortune and folly.

Could I be the lover you left
Before we had even met?
Let’s not get out of this bed.
Let the traffic go on without us instead.

Don’t be cynical about love when things go bad.
Don’t be cynical about love – it’s all we have