The Hollow And The Fluted Night

by Clive James and Pete Atkin

This kind of ocean fails to reach the coast
A special famine rages at the feast
The one loved most is always present least

You are the loved one, very nearly here
Who did not feel so far away before
But now I fear our separation more

The hollow and the fluted night that weaves
The cloth combining loves divides their lives
Black velvet hills between the silver knives

The sunlight on the window-sill kow-tows
And opens up the sky to further skies
For all the thousand miles to your eyes

The realisation daunts the both of us
And so we draw a deep breath through a kiss
When was it ever otherwise than thus?
And what goodbyes are more alone than this?