11:10.                    Sideways

an apoplectic Homeric epic.

She faces from me, she never spares me, not even still, when seated sideways

my favorite foldaway wooden chair, now scent embedded, rhythmic rocking, her legs at 10:10

The clock said 11:11


                              That Curl

Her tiny smile cleavers, cuts, wakes the room and then carries the text of a thousand love letters,

but I sit unacknowledged