renditions of her

in the kitchen, she kneels
in front of the dishwasher
sorting plates and plans, spoons and thoughts

in the garden, she bends
down to the narcissus, the primroses
gathering weed, gathering words

at her desk, she yields
to the core of the page
filling the white with reflections

in the night, she bows
on the doorstep of dreamland
a leaflet of signs in her hands

don't get her wrong
she might only look like
a servant to you

 

                                                                                                                   

Two poems     2

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