Here, In Arms

There is no time for unmeant words

Here, in arms. For my time

Has been drizzled on lonely souls

Whose whispers proved empty

As wind in elms.

I have no heart for half-heartedness,

For my heart has been rolled

Between palms - squeezed -

Wrung - and now

Sits dense and heavy.

Be you thoughtless I have no time,

Or ruthless - I have no heart.

No space or skin or sympathy,

My darling -

Unless.

Katrina Martin