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


Still


Could not remake the stillness of your face