Accidentally locked out Of my cavern, With cold for company. Cold, and thoughts Uncold: Kept hot in the thermos in my chest, Kept sweet: Borrowed juice of a ripe fruit - A peach, do let's say a peach - Uncold company, And in loneliness A warmth...
A neatlyfolded Origami Man is going 'round Cleverbuzzing and kindsmiling At little sillyshining things That sometimes climb Him, With My name folded up inside And warm in the thermos In His paper chest -
The stem of a mouse wineglass Is not so delicate Nor is He any less Solid than the granite 'Pon which I'm resting - That something fragile should be So arresting...
The thought pins me warmly In place, So what of a wait? Inside or out, hot or cold, Somehow somewhere He is Impossibly folded up Around Me.