Like my rubbing of your wet face

(with a dry flannel)

Like my brushing of your dry teeth

(with baking soda)

I seem to prove  an annoying

but improving

ex-foliating daily chore. 

 

You stand aghast as I rail down the 'phone

(on your behalf)

for those absent cheques.

You look askance as I query the bill

(on your behalf)

for the meal that you've just paid for.

Or the life that I've arranged

(on your behalf) 

 

But, I watch your up-turning mouth

(forgiving with a smile)

as I join you at our table.

And, I feel your taloned grip

(in my palm) 

that's fierce in my defence.

And, as I hear 

(from a strangers mouth)

of your apparent love for me:

I burn with a silencing ache.