I should be working

I’m reading

in the State Library instead

it’s close enough

though distant

like the skylight

in the State Library &

decibels heard but barely			 
the author

would rather drink

(as I would

if Sydney was

a liquid spectacle)

I’d fill myself with liquid

to drown decibels

until the cold freezes me

now ice

now partially in this poem

I guess but
for all that

I could still be less cold

& just for a moment

resist interpretation

& further definition 
that’d help of course

I’m not still enough either

& that poem about saying

 ‘I love you’

how love is a word

stretched over definition

how it becomes

—no is—

  enormous

(too big for the poem at the time)

but I said it

& I wasn’t still then

nor my twitching mouth

& I said it then

& even as my eyes twist

lips move

time slips

	          goes

	                   (all a first: ice

                                                 love)

                                          the bed

wasn’t stuck in place

I wasn’t

you weren’t: ‘you love me

don’t you Dave?’

I did

I do

& I can’t say now still

at my desk

it was anything

that made me say it
maybe it is time

to adore reading again

(though I love clothes’

warmth more)

think of a red doona

where you’re awake

while I sleep