THE DAINTY MONSTERS
Michael
Ondaatje
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Paris
........................I
A lifeless night tonight, I talk to her,
the sky low, and with a surer hand
one could draw a heaven down.
The old man, his face puckered,
watches in the shadows.
Pieces of moon
glazed off the river
curve on his face;
his grin
judges our whims, words.
She stretches out her palms,
curves them to circle stars.
‘I am collecting the sky for you, Alexandros.’
At night it is cold on the mountain,
we move with fast passion from necessity.
By calming me she removes my dreams.
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