All night I listen out for you,
stalled in my terrace window
like Pegasus in a field of stars.
A clothes horse between semesters,
draped in your colours, a bra
for blinkers …
I wait, still
for your keys in the door,
your patter up the narrow stairs
your back and fore … back and fore …
across the creaking floor.
You tiptoe in, I bear your weight.
You reach for the broken blind,
unscroll its bright parchment –
the first sunlight
printing itself on the floor
now … and now … back and fore …
