A consumed moon’s meagre light;
I pause, mourning this grey life.
Let me look at you —
ear lobes like pearls from tissue,
the emollient pallor of your royal flesh.
My finger probes your lips
as an owl hoots its presence:
I imagine your soul,
the skulls of saints
Copyright Francis Barker 2020
In a diamond city night we’re
taxied through floodlit streets
angled snow alabasters old facades
medieval histories beyond all guessing
Flanders is frozen outside this misted glass
the two of us sitting nose to nose
our tongues loosening aperitif smiles
white burgundy cutting through brie
making heads light and cheeks flush
and toe touch toe
Our eyes meet when bare soul strokes calf
kissing slim fingers one by one
plied each day to taut cello strings
sneak previews to plots and suites of night
image and poem © copyright David F. Barker
* sorry, but this is an oldie!
