The Colour of Heather : Wynn Wheldon


I imagine you alone

with your enthusiasm

and your sturdy bag on the platform

wondering where the hell I am. 

The meagre northern light is fading

and it is getting cold.

The heat rises in my face.

There’s a knot of something

beneath my heart

like indigestion, but not.

I imagined you naked

but could not see myself so.

I feared your yes, I feared your no.

What colour is heather

in the lightless night?