Flickbook / by Alex Williamson

Begins with you in a corner of a room

Flanked by the detritus of your Twenties.

The old one in the Homerton houseshare

You had when we first met.

The one you found with your friend Claire -

Who hated to administrate -

Who left one day leaving you bereft

Sobbing on the end of my phone.

The remembered music of that room:

Coles’ Corner. Love + Pain.

Dedication handwritten in block caps:

Made with love. December 2007.

That was when I knew I loved you,

Though I always struggled to match your gifts,

Your photographer’s eye, deft crafting fingers.

No Casanova I, and now you’re

Someone else’s.

But there was love there, and lust

When we devoured each other

On fevered evenings.

And here in this flickbook

We are young again -

Young and untroubled.

No mark of the children to come,

Parenthood, the illness of our mothers,

No trace of the arguments waged

As our marriage unravelled,

Secrets but a slip of the tongue.

But they’re there, present and correct

As you disrobe and close in on me,

Fill the frame with your breasts and lips,

And the breath I can still feel on my face.

I play our film in reverse sometimes

The years withdrawing, page by page,

As you move slowly into my past,

Redressing, changing your mind -

First the jeans, then bra and blouse

Covering the knickers you saved for best -

And return to being fully dressed,

Set your hands on your hips

And glower at me

Across the remains of our life,

As if I’ve become someone else.