CASUALLY YOURS

Like a professional harpist On a mistuned royal harp, Succor to a disturbed soul: Occasional hiatus More disturbing than the disturbance. I lay like the harp in a royal threshold, My feeling sitting on the partition Between fright and bravery. This angel from an unknown heaven, Prefer me on a plate with fork and knife Placed on a table for one. Introduction skipped, verification postponed Curtain drawn in time against the curious moon Peeping through the broken window. A single click on the light switch And darkness honoured the invitation. The night, in hurry – ignored the gold fish in the vivarium and The dripping sound of the steamed herb in the colander – Pushed on the weary moon Time care neither for the stubborn arrival Nor the pain of the labourer in the labour room. Soon, her dress decorated with golden sequins And my, awaiting-replacement, dungaree will part The sun dancing in her large eyes would be eclipsed. The herb in the colander has expired; The bottle on the rack containing the wonder pills is empty. Sleep, sleep, the desperate heat in my head would suggest; Sleep is a stupid loner’s friend. For shortly the worn door would close behind her; Behind my asset of much worth, Behind my energy, taking at passion point.