A cup on a cup on a cup on a cup...

It doesn’t feel like you’re gone.

I went to your house yesterday,

It wasn’t as warm as I remember

But that’s April for you,

The sun shines through the mid-day hours

Until late afternoon and its cold friend surround us.

I’m sitting in the kitchen

Hunched in the nook between the table and fridge,

My usual place,

Opposite the chair where you would be seated

If you were here.

Looking through my empty glass

I can taste the watered down orange

And smell the lightest hint of tea

In the hot water

That steams from your ceramic orange cup.

I pick up my glass and hold it

To the cool light reflected through the window,

Placing it to the side of the sink

I wonder if maybe you’ll come back into the room

If I clear the table.

For it was there we played dominoes

You taught me draughts

Pick up sticks was a favourite

And on occasions chess,

I think that maybe some of the time you would let me win.

With a turn of my head I hear the hinges creak

As the verandah door knocks back on its frame,

Those coloured ribbons that used to hang,

How pale it has been

Since they were taken down a few years ago.

In the garden, I want to watch you walk through that verandah door

So you can see how high I can swing,

I can almost see over the fence,

But the tree and its swing have gone,

And I’ve been told, and I know, that you’ve gone too.

A Lesson.

Richard
Of
York
Gained 
Battle
In
Vain

sitting in a railway carriage

sitting in a railway carriage
going neither here nor there
coming backwards going forwards opposite your hair glows, 
etruscan, epicene.
i lean towards the mountains
beyond the speeding train,
through the image of you
reflected on the montage of the window pane;
i suppose it's all a matter of the images that collide
within a given space
that gives the glitter to your eyes, 
the sculpture to your face.


                  - Shelton Lea

The sweetest little song.

You go your way
I'll go your way too
   
- Leonard Cohen

Passing.

It happens to us all

But we're not told when.

Nevertheless,

I will probably ask you again.

Golden Brown.

Gotta get the moneys.

And all the girls say I'm pretty Fly.