Poetry

lacquer table, black
plums like olives, mangosteens –
notions, orbs, backlit
 
yellow cabs, standstill
empty corridor – we sleep
airport of violins
 
how was life, cut up?
the cubist years of whitman
bread, fish paste, fondue
 
shared snacks over tea
you must need something – love notes?
blue shower curtains?
 
the way north is named?
tin soldiers stashed, old poster
rhetoric blinking


* This poem first appeared in the journal, "Umbrella Factory".