He Writes
Sometimes he writes to her
upon a white paper moon.
The ink of his thoughts
dries to invisibility
as he folds the love-letter
into an origami model
of a flightless bird,
a creature now extinct.
He imagines her putting on her face,
dressing up
getting ready to take a taxi
to his Bayswater, London apartment.
At such times
he waits like Noel Coward
for his China dream girl
in some long forgotten play.
He picks up
a cut glass whiskey decanter
swirls the last inch of Irish around
smiles as she appears once more
at his door.
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