lovers walk in opposite directions
around the renaissance room of a gallery
famous for the exotic birds
caged in its central atrium. when the lovers meet
again
with a kiss, they have turned the space on its axis
like mismatched cyclists a velodrome.
many colognes and perfumes
ghost through the ambience
on willowy slipstream trapezes. children cling to
stools at baby easels before adoration scenes.
that point of reuniting is a landscape
of twin sisters sitting on a marble floor,
huge Komodo dragons between them – artist unknown,
blurb purely material.
were the room twice as large, she would have
overlapped her
but whether their pace differential comes down to
boredom or fascination remains to be seen.
in that kiss, quick as an atria contraction
neither lover unclasps her hands
in propriety’s roost at the small of her back,
neither says anything with her mouth or her face
and soon the spin cycle resumes
in the room where
pieces break off into components.
No comments:
Post a Comment