This evening's events will no doubt appear over the next few days as poems...eep..

but for now...

Flight Risk

He was a flight risk, liable to disappear
at any moment; but it was you who raised
your hand precisely as a pigeon took to the air
from the ground beneath your feet; or
did it come from your sleeve, a physical expression
of what you wanted to say? In my face, the wingbeat
air; in my chest the panic of collision.
In your face the glee and disappointment
of the world going to lengths to prove a point.