DOUBLE FULL STOPS
Lost are warm summers..
It is too cold out there;
the mirror has dimmed
and so has the sun..
The window panes
are dull, when did
someone last run a mop
to clear a conscience..
No one calls up
curious to know
what you might not do
this evening…
There is mischief aplenty
in a misplaced wallet
lost in this room
sunk in shabbiness.
It smells
of last evening’s wine
and the stale perfume
of some woman
that wept a lot
a long time ago..
02.12.2010