Saturday, March 21, 2015

Bath first published in Aesthetica Magazine, July 2008

She wanted to lie down next to me.
She did.
I said she ought to know there were no chances;
she took hers.

I remember this silent night
in my flat
up there
up the Plantation Shop

was her name
she once met the Native
and shared his wrath
against the wall
of uncertainties
that went up
between us.

Andy and Paul
were cutting plants,
tidying the shop,
clearing things,
counting money.
When she went downstairs
she helped herself with a cup of coffee
the smell of it filled up the kitchen.

I let her go
I had to
she had to go
and there were no
other ways.
The Native would come back shortly after.
He had been out all night.
Staring at the sky,
talking to the moon,
to the stars,
his fingers touching the darkest patch of the ethereal net
up there.

He entered the room
I was still lying on my bed.
He lied next to me.
The wine vapours still lingered in his hair,
on his clothes, on his pale skin.
I touched his back.
He said I ought to know there were no chances;
I got up
and went to work.

No comments:

Post a Comment