In a loose fitting towel, blue and
coarse against my skin I am dreaming of writing the sapphire in a sky. Throatal
whisperings.
I rely on whim and mistake.
The slip of my loosely held pen
dissolves such a sapphire.
To leave a dribbled reality of rain and mist.
Rain and
mist which in another mood. Would mood me and move me, a sapphire promise.
Yet
to notice such a thing, and, believe it like now. Leaves me open again, happy
in the gloom of the room.
I am drawn again into the allure of
that crumbled spot, of cushions and candle wax.
Where my lover lay askew.
And I
saw her again as new.
Now we work quietly.
To the chant of soft electronic music,
honing our minds to acknowledge the calm of the morning.
Content smelling the
coffee of the new day.
