by Kerry Hammerton
He rushes in.
In the crowded room he sees
only her. She sits with a glass of
champagne scanning faces for someone
recognisable, someone famous.
She still looks at him
but not quite
in full focus.
He feels let down.
At the end of the evening
he doesn’t remember what he has seen
or heard, all his senses consumed
by the press of her thigh against his.
Later she will plait his long hair
in preparation for bed. He will wonder
if she is thinking of someone else and
if now they have moved to an in between.
In between an almost leaving
and, somewhere in the future,