Dedicated To The Passage.

 
 
The coffee pot is empty  
the lingering  
after breath  
is as good as the  
freshly brewed  
steam  
that filled this kitchen’s  
early morning air  
 
Hear her coming  
heels  
give her away  
Playing the wooden staircase  
like a percussion instrument  
Perfectly timed  
bass doubles  
sing  
her welcome  
 
While weltering
winter leaves
spread across
 the frosty ground  
whistle  
the announcement  
of her arrival  
 
The cat hides, behind the door  
 
She seats herself  
on the Granite  
of the cupboard  
Folds those legs  
like a 1950’s  
bombshell  
Lights a cigarette  
stares  
through the after  
smoke  
 
All she wants to do  
 is talk about sex  
Make sweat  
pretty  
as the rose  
she based  
her lip colour on  
 
Tells me she  
likes chocolate  
 
Mentions  
restraint  
 
Points  
towards  
the passage  
 
Not everyone  
talks  
as good  
as they  
give  
 
 
-x-