845

i had poured her another drink
on an afternoon when even
the flies were tired
and the bees had found
refuge under the umbrellas
of darkened flowers

what do you think about
days like these

and

can you smell my perfume
from your chair

or

just words that slipped
from the small part
between her lips

love was never so taken
with its pride in
its deeds as it was then

sweat formed a little crown
on her temple
darkened her skin
and made the circles
under her eyes seem
endless

–
i dumped some paint
on grass and wrote
with my finger
in big swooping letters
her name
with all the vowels
dark little things
and the consonants
heavy shapes that one
could feel in his mouth

she plucked a loose eyelash
off my nose
and kissed it
my nose
the eyelash