An obsessive woman in Euston Station, only she knew
why she stalked, defining circles only she knew.
Drugged growls scraped the outside door. (Four am) Fear
gave me a darkened hall, silent sentry. He knew.
How to tell, to describe negative spaces. Met with
blank eyes, uncomfortable sighs. Not the me she knew.
The Perfect One, the All-Alone set sail one night,
shipped out, defining courses only He knew.
We are not stowaways, Michele. We are His various
company; He is the Perfect Listener, if only we knew.
Michele Waering’s work has appeared most recently in San Pedro River Review, Red River Review, The Ghazal Page and From Glasgow to Saturn. She lives in Renfrewshire, Scotland.