The hedge is thick. Loose twigs lash at our eyes
-you’d think a gardEner would prune them neat.
My cheeks sting. There’s a tangle at my feet
and in my head. And every lover tries
to walk this maze or others with some grace.
We do not blush to lose, but to be lost
embarrassing humiliating cost
of loving. We all end up in this place
dark and confused, unable to turn right
though people always tell us that’s our way
to find the centre, the way out. It’s day
or was just now, yet suddenly it’s night.
I’ve walked for hours and hear her lonely cry.
Somewhere in darkness, she’s as lost as I.