A Homing Beacon

Today is the day we wade in frozen rivers,
through heartbreak, sleep
and wake in the night
victorious
With no one to clean the armour
we took to battle then.

When I miss you, it is midnight sweats,
and pre-dawn starts
eyeing winter moutnains from spring towers,
an easy isolation.

It is distraction in sorting out bills,
budgeting tears and counting the calories lost in them.

When I miss you, it is ponderous,
the creeping slow lane
passing the glitter-paved freeway I am demanding from the world.

You are the exit I want to get off at.
I need directions to our house,
 but north was never steady for me
I never understood the draw, so instead of freedom-bound
I am mired in jungles of small eyes
and quick whispers,
of sympathy and in the care of gin.