Lucksmiths The Winter Proper
It was dark when you got home
And only getting darker
The garden overgrown
It was further than you thought
From the driveway to the door
You fumbled for the porchlight
And somehow you were sure
That there was something wrong
She’s going, if not gone
And nothing said would stop her
Put something warmer on
And await the winter proper
There was no need for a note
It couldn’t have been clearer
The absent dufflecoat
The clothes across the bed
They spelled it out instead
But you still don’t understand it
All those books you never read —
Maybe this is what went on
She’s going, if not gone
And nothing said would stop her
Put something warmer on
And await the winter proper
At night the helicopters move above us
Searchlights over roofs
Of lovers hiding from home truths
The covers starting to come loose
In our modern bedrooms
With our ancient problems
