I Don't Want to Talk About It

I Don’t Want to Talk About It

Maybe it’s better this way. And, if less
is more, there will be plenty.
In fact, we’ll overflow
as if with all the juices of a bowl
of summer fruit; as if all the rivers
of England brimmed so full that High Streets
in market towns became thoroughfares for fish;
as if the empty universe seemed so full
of stars; as if a heart so full of blood
would only burst for love;
as if civilisations could cease to rise
and fall or languages go silent overnight
while silence becomes just one more
of those impossible things you do
and as if I’ll never never
never never write another
poem about you.