REBIRTH

When I said I love gold’s warmth you took me literally. That’s the trouble with us.

You agreed to come wild swimming, naked, but only because you had a surprise you wanted to give me, afterwards. It was a beautiful evening, the sun a gold disc, its warmth comforting. ‘I love the way it turns the evening air golden,’ I said. But I don’t think you heard.

You took even longer than usual to pack the car. I said I didn’t need anything but you said we’d need food. I said the moment would be gone, forget the food. You said I shouldn’t hurry you and I know I shouldn’t. I hate it when you hurry me, when you wait, tapping your foot and sighing, long before the time we’ve agreed to leave.

I swam but you didn’t. I knew you wouldn’t. You don’t like your body. I stayed in 'til the sun set but when I got out I was cold. You were waiting for me on the riverbank with seven buckets full of ... gold. I looked at you, stunned, as you picked up the first one and said, ‘This’ll warm you up,’ as you emptied it over my head. What you meant was, ‘This’ll make it impossible for you to go anywhere without me.’

Gold means many things to me, but it no longer means a ring. Because you want me to be like you, to behave like you, to be a female version of you.

When this gold hardens I’ll break out. And as I leave your world I’ll be reborn.