You once told me
- tantalised -
you were the keeper of a secret.
What, I said.
How to fold letters just so, you said,
so they fit in envelopes.
You'd learned it where your mam worked.
Your lying cheating mother.
I begged for that secret
or did I really desire some piece of you
some whisper of your heart
mine alone to moon proud over
but you were always going off ahead
and wouldn't say.
it's lost to me now,
like you
like so many maybes.
Perhaps it wasn't but
I imagine it was the day in the park.
Your hair was always nice
but that day I loved your teeth.
I picture you that way
when I fold my letters wrong.
