I wouldn't mind
if the world reduced itself
to your face
opposite my face.
Slow tilted everything.
Two soft whirls of bread, oh how
I love bread. Or half-painted canal
masks, bright and bone, breathing dry
on a dust-strewn table.
When the service was over
they cleared the chairs, filed
the name cards and flowers.
Even after you drained
the semi-fine wine,
petted to tears someone's
bored, tactless children;
Even after they drop
kicked our building, years too
late- dough cringe iced
memory long charr
baked,lung plumed-
I'll wait,
I'll wait.
No comments:
Post a Comment