samos dusk

by R J Dent




The soft hooting will be the swooping owl

articulating a flight-path over

the cool tiles of this Samos balcony.

The tamarinds hiss like the sand in wind.

What else flits fast through violet air tonight,

past the boarded-up smoke house and moored boat?


Small waves lap at sections of ragged shore.

Perhaps one day the wind will blow due south,

reviving the burning and hard-packed ground.

You call softly; soon you will call again.

My pulse surges, a fresh spring comes to life.

Tonight, in your warm bloodstream, I will drown.

I stand. From below come the muted smells

of new-baked bread, fresh coffee, mixed spices,

that tell us all about our appetites.

Out in the hills, a warm breeze ripples gorse,

and I hear the soft notes of a guitar…

Later sleep will be induced, gods appeased,

as we lie linked, content with who we are.


Copyright © R J Dent (2009)



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