I Saw You In The Curtains Of The Balcony Room

I remade the chair

From a few broad rails

The curtain’s billow and drape

From the goose-down shiver

Of winter’s long-drawn exhalation

The iron bed, stalwart

In curlicues and abandoned heaps

That you, in your cool insistence

Preferred neatly folded

I was never like that –fool

You admonish with the laughter of the imagined dead

In that cloud-drift adumbration


Could not remake the stillness of your face