a brief airing of the soul

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
how great
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

this and this and this

and this: