You Were Wearing Blue


the explosions are nearer this evening
the last train leaves for the south
at six tomorrow
the announcements will be in a different language

i chew the end of a match
the tips of my finger and thumb are sticky

i will wait at the station and you
will send a note, i
will read it
it will be raining

our shadows in the electric light

when i was eight they taught me real
to join up the letters

listen you said i
preferred to look

at the sea everything stops there at strange angles

only the boats spoil it
making you focus further

from Collected Poems (Carcanet, 2003), copyright Tom Raworth 2003, used by permission of the author and the publisher

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