by Mark Hedden
By catsup, by fish, by coffee bitter and black,
My mind this morning a shredded cobweb.
O Woman, lean back. Be quiet, one moment more.
How it springs, this nothing, out of things.
A hedge of leftovers, china and glass by light
Dappled, made to dance,
as the curtain
Weaves the street in its blue stripes. Be still, be quiet.
What is not or shall not be, I care not.
But, this morning, you, blue in that sweater
And white where my eyes would touch are more real
For my not knowing, more lasting for not having.
Be still, be quiet, one moment more.
Let me finish this cup, black as the pot
You never wash, and bitter enough. I shall
Go. This much