Deshabillé

You arrive in a vortex of keys and bags,
bits of paper spilling from your pockets,
your maelstrom mouth dripping data data
data about driving and your day until

I spatchcock a kiss, squeezed between
your lips’ soliloquies; your turbulence
curbed for one mute moment. Later,
after rain, hair marcelled and wayward,

you use a croissant to punctuate your opinions,
startling passers-by with pastry flakes
cascading like starlings, flecking your jeans,
your jacket, as you chatter and I laugh

helplessly. I buzz across you: you bumble and
I blame your fumbling footsteps (though
we both know it was me). Towels left
in undryable disarray, rugs rucked up

to trip the unwary – when and where we meet
is more litter than littoral. I follow after you,
trying to calm your chaos, tottering
and tidying and picking up your pieces

to patch you together.

Morgaine Merch Lleuad

If you have any comments on this poem,   Morgaine Merch Lleuad would be pleased to hear from you.