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Sunday, September 03, 2006

Force Majeure

The Balcony

Out there on the balcony,
as she sat opposite me
on a white plastic chair,
it seemed that the seat had
existed only partly
until the curved
contours of its shape
had hugged her own,

and as we talked, eating
the Greek salad she'd made,
a play of red and yellow,
white and light and dark green,
as though she'd coloured
the table with the textures
of the dawning Cyprus sunrise,
that reached out to touch
the bosoms and heads of trees,

and slipping its nightdress,
as the world undressed
out of its early summer mist
to shimmeringly caress
the whitening morning,
the colour of her pale skin
seemed to speak
of something invisible,

and out there on the balcony,
I realised my eyes
had been a deceitful narrator
before her, seeing truly
for the first time,
I watched her, unflinchingly
looking at the sun,
a mortal undone
by a haloed goddess.



There was a moment
when you kissed me,
lips in habitual desire,
fingers locked
in bodily impressions,
we were open lights
rebelling at the night,
in that moment I knew
that all my poems written
before, during and after
were about you.

There was a moment
under the sweet shade
of your breast, you fed me
from your mind and body,
and the light sum
of whispered laughter
flowed between two hearts,
in that moment you were
every cinematic heroine
I'd fallen in love with
merged into one.

There was a moment,
as we soldered heated palms,
your hair touched my cheek,
and your smouldering smile
crept out from its core,
a force majeure of joy
touched all uncertainty away,
in that moment I loved you,
and for that moment
will always love you,
come what may.


A Fedora for Love

we did not talk of love
by day, or sleep in bed at night
with its name, we did not dine
or ride in the car with it,

we did not wear it on our sleeves,
or place a soft fedora
on its head to protect it
from the glare of others,

but even though we ignored it,
only allowing love to silently
stand watch with us,
it was there,

and we knew it.

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