Angela

1. A Room in the rain

lights that shimmer in pain,

your anklets stab the silence

your face cracks down

in cinders of snow

as my smiles go up in mist

and we are floating again,

in a song-boat

on the fringes of this night

Angela,

these tunes are false

that snake in through your window

with the soot of the city

your hair streams down

like the raging skyline,

your sleeves are dripping with rain

your fingers scurry with joy

for a last shelter,

as I document your touch

in peace

Angela,

let’s burgle these clouded doors

that stand between us now

like night patrollers

and unhide the soft contours

of veiled delight

let reflections change forever

as we manufacture love

in this rain room

and when the night shrinks in sleep,

you shall search for a poet

who lives in songs

while I travel

through old diaries

for the ruins of your smiles

2. Last Station of love

Angela,

what was bothering you that day

when you took the night train

at the last junction?

light years in thought;

we lived a month on missed calls

and nothing else

whatever was left in the city

except the ghosts of a few poets

and nude strangers?

Angela,

we’re waiting

at the last station

of love

we’ve been waiting for years now

and colliding at times

in dream

when time breaths

in tiny splinters of sight

like another illusion

or the river curls up

at the solstice of vision

Angela,

we shall then meet across the waters

of this tiny blue opera glass

and try to read our past

in the fast headlight

of some passing vehicle

we shall glide on sounds

across the harbours of this city

we shall haunt

the windows of sleep

this December

as the moon

like a snowrose sickle,

hangs from her hinges