a brief airing of the soul
a poem
you pause to stare at clouds
and think of home, tonight
when you will loosen your new tie
sit down at the piano
and begin to play
that little thing by Satie
and with the first notes drifting up
in foam and ripples she will stir
like Aphrodite being born
she will emerge, still sleepy
and will sway her head
in gentle waves like sighing
and then your neighbour will conclude
his drilling exercise next door
and you will smile
because you’ll know
he must be leaning on the wall
as somewhere very deep and hidden
his own one’s stretching in her slumber
and he is thinking how he used to
draw portraits of his children
long ago
and you will think of all the times
you went to concerts with a friend or two
and let her sing along to all that human longing
and live a poem for an hour or so
but when the music ended
you all went to eat
and as she slept you said things
like:
how great
amazing
what a gig
and she is dancing now
she looks like she’s forgiven
and forgotten
the things you’ve done
and she will do that still
Satie is finished
now wide awake,
she’s humming
and then you –
you tell her she must rest again
I’ll get you soon, you promise
then as she shuts her eyelids
you can hear
the neighbour’s drilling has resumed
and so
you head towards the door
for you must warn him:
such things
such bold and bright incursions
they’re not allowed
this late
and this:
