In the Blue Moon. Thursday

John Stocks

The working day ends in darkness
We scramble for our cars and then
Late evening in the Blue Moon
Kathryn Williams softly crooning
The hiss of the Fracino machine.

Shadows lengthen
Conversation deepens.

Over carrot cake and sombulent latte
Edgily you tell your story
A brutal unreported ‘date-rape’ at sixteen
A friend of the family
Chasms of thought
We watch the rain
Sweeping across the cathedral forecourt
Tentatively prod our plates.

In my head I replay previous conversations
Assemble fragments like a jigsaw
It explains the sudden brooding silences
A hollow laugh
The haunted glances
The occasional trembling as you hold a glass.

After work church
Silent communion
A fusion of hard realities
My only contribution
A shoulder to cry on.
A mirror to your world.