by Hurl Ague
Now as the party winds down — as it does —
half empty jugs of ale, half full of ale
put down from toasting half-forgotten causes
lie half-remembered, roundabout the hall.
We may take up by way of recollection,
the glasses that we held, and tend the fire
that heats the hearth’s eternal conversation;
half joining up our half discrete desires.
But nothing lasts for ever. We must go
and going means we go our different ways
through change and movement, wanting goals.
Remember this, for all our other days:
If there is judgement and if I’m the one
to judge, it won’t have mattered which side you were on.