Chasing Germane by Yvette Merton

Chasing Germane was never easy
subliminal boy, holding fingers
letting go, tiny and disproportionate,
quick-wit tackling wild hearts
keeping them gathered, only for him,
pulling petals from daisies
pulling fruit from its skin
face plaster smile
sitting stiff limbed like a sultana
on a lounge, pretending to listen.
He’d sigh at the right time
he’d ahh at the right time
but his mind…chasing the planes,
head nodding feverishly
counting the minutes, ten at best
then he’d flinch
chasing his shadow,
warm on the concrete
leaf in the breeze
sucked by the wind
dreadlocks matted
home for the insects
chasing the clocks
me, chasing him
-steam locomotive-
racing through tunnels
never giving up chasing Germane.