Every Move You Make
I know people disappear. They pop
to the shop and don’t come back.
There’s nothing to prepare those close
to them for the shock. They don’t pack
a bag and say ‘That’s it. I’m going. For good.’
then set off whistling Hit The Road Jack.
But don’t ever think I’m going
to allow you
to be at the centre
of a missing person case.
Don’t imagine you can drive off
without leaving a trace.
Someone will recall your voice.
Another will recollect your face.
In the collective memory
you will occupy a space.
If you attempt to vanish
I will give chase
and when I catch you I’ll enfold you
in love’s permanent embrace.