caress each flame, seven for each night.
all you hear is wind, the taste
of tiredness in your bed
massaging
your temples.
she sings five octaves.
you read the paper, enquiring
over descriptions you know nothing about.
i presume to say, "don't take a job
where the title eludes you.
twenty-eight dollars an hour?
sure, if you know what it means."
you say my mermaid painting
resonates. i want you to have it.
i want to exchange gifts.
the plays by lorca you gave,
you know how it fits.
green wind and green branches,
you know how i live this.
or try to, dismissive
of each weary driver
on either side of my lane,
their enthusiasm long dried up
by time and smog, by abrasive faces.
a child waves hello, a smile
all you need to remember,
all you need
to go on.
lamb chops.
cubed potatoes,
quartered mushrooms,
half-circle courgettes
with a hint of curry powder. somehow,
this alleviates the cold, this winter dirge
waiting for the sun to surge.
hallelujah for tonight.
you are warm, fed, a crucible
of thoughts spilling softness.
hallelujah. your framed photo
of punga ferns
dreams
with you.
_________________________________________________
|