Making Love & Omelettes

By | 1 September 2013

After a line by Veronica Forrest-Thomson

Slight kitchen views from white sheets
—warmth of breath and skin—

there are tile shapes in the lino,
just enough window sun

to mistake for a lit globe, a yellowing
of day taking shape across the floor.

But in the first room—blinds drawn,
edges shaping shadows, tidally,
across the curling spines

of books, colours muted,
pages loose and stacked at random—
there is a slowness, a taking
of time, each said word

folded close by ampersand; the morning’s
pairing of shapes, doubled and joined:

‘is’ & ‘ought’

eyes & fingers,
love & breakfast

(as omelette or glazed pastry.)

Later comes the day’s grit:
a sink full of eggshell & coffee dreg

—an expression caught in passing
by the glass, ‘the blank world…’—

A blueness of sky to signal cloudless,
and little much else.

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