Amelia Fielden



halving fruit
            my second husbandís
            way of love Ė
            hard to change habits
            so late in life

            our dog races
            to fetch her ball again
            and again
            I donít know what I want
            until I donít get it


from Europe
            your daytime calling
            my deep night,
            our voices making love
            along the sea-bed


the diagnosis
            malignant melanoma Ė
            Iím furious
            that you wonít be here
            to hold me when


            parrots in our palm trees
            at breakfast
            news of bloody battles
            surging to Baghdad


            by Okayama bridge
            in a golden snowstorm
            of gingko leaves
            a man waits patiently
            like an old lover