I lit a cigarette and the soft weather
Of blue-white smoke unhooked the air
Like a disappointment, lingered momentarily
Then took its place amongst the elements.
That was midnight.
Now, 6 am, the resonance of dawn gilds
The room catching shadow after shadow
Until the inevitable body of the sun brightens
Your face, your blank indifference showing
The way out.
And the bright silver of the mirror reflects
Image after image of resolution and promise,
Those immesurable pieties that drown sense
For no particular reason.
Then the sound of the dawn birds
In a stuck song reminding me
Of that kind of oblivion only
We would know, the treasure
Of your cracked smile losing its wonders
As I have lost my wonders here, my love, here
As the sun bleeds and dampens our tomorrows,
Time having shifted somewhere else as I watch
You close the door with a glance at yesterday,
The unhinged pleasure of circumstance
Calling us, now, by name.
If you've any comments on
this poem, John Cornwall would be pleased to hear from you.