The windows rattle;
kissing your hand, i get up
and lock the shutters.
—
i listen to you
venting your frustrations, then
close your lips with mine
—
she comes in winter
talarias by the door
snow falling quickly
—
it was just autumn
when I said I liked your wig
cancer moves so fast
—
I watch him —click clack
walking with his umbrella
during summer drought
—
we, the two of us
on all fours, up the talus
to see tulips bloom
—
we queue up to cross
the Styx river, where Peter
reincarnates us
—
a queue of geese swim
across the pond, to beg us
for our week old bread
—
the opera is not
so moving as her kisses
under a half-moon
—
this pool of water,
a summer shower’s remains
waiting for my foot
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