A string of lights
Coiled like DNA of angels
Warm night
And she’s upstairs having a bath
Reading
Something complex and syncopated
Is
Playing on the computer
Because who listens to a stereo anymore?
but I’ve a mind to turn it off
Listen to the moment breathe instead
And a hard week behind me
Another ahead
But this chair is firm under me
And I need so little to be happy
(That joke writes itself
I am sure)
Still, on call,
And do it without complaint
Different with her,
And even the flaws serve as good
Instructions
The sound of her footsteps
On the stairs
Putting the kettle on
Book closes
Opens again
MB Blissett 