The Bookshop Sessions #11

Fourth row from the back

I sit to be sat

In a lack of quiet ones

I’d see 

A sight in some

And expect a single heartbeat

That rhythms to schism

Attached to its sting

Three men sit empty

not alone 

not alone, but sitting 

two two

three and three

The carrier swings left

Cold glass presses against shoulders

I laughed but no one heard

Except this warmth inside

I met the girl from the stream again 

She smiled, with her eyes of darkness

I can’t call to wonder whether she wonders

what is to hold bare

I guess it’s only fair

But beautiful she is

The taste of honey

That ebbs and flows on the tides

and flocks of one heron

It squarks bismillah

Then eats

I’m free to feel

The expansion of…

What the stars get to steal

But beautiful

She is