Variation VIIDCLXII

“The constrictor
Not to be tugged out, or snapped”
—Ted Hughes, ‘Astringency’

You’ll stand there, your arms wide open: “I’ll love you
And provide care, whether you’re here
Or not: yes; but

It would feel better if you came across now”—and you’ll know
That it’s hopeless: you can see
The smile on their face

Being stretched out by old shackles, a chain
Trapping them through time; and there’s nothing
You can do, despite the poems

And poems you write, desperate
To end the words otherwise; and what’s
Worse

Is seeing those shackles—that
Chain—only ever going back to themselves.