SOMETIMES IN THIS WRITING LIFE/3.12.0z9


SOMETIMES IN THIS WRITING LIFE

On the cherry wood smooth

As kisses table,

Quiet as dust between

The rafters, I spend hours

Wanting for nothing more

Than that dark French coffee

And these American cigarettes.

Between paisley shadows,

Where the chestnut floor meets

My cold feet I sweep

Afternoon’s debris

Into the fire

Just after sunset and stars

Soft in a glow of kerosene,

The black cat curls into my chair…


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