Amoureux regardant l’île

Chateau Margaux


slithers down the stem,

from the bowl,

left on the rim

by your lips;


below your brown-swirl eyes,

mirroring constellations

above quai de la Tournelle

and the Seine

in silken ebony.

Lights! Spread before us

like so many gems

inside a store we would not

be allowed…

The glow mixes with



coffee vapours,

sprigs of rosemary,

candle wax.

The night so pure,

yet with not enough air for words;

and the silence is broken by a cloud-drop

making your cigarette

hiss in its long filter.

Let us retire to our homes;

for have you kissed someone in the rain?


Nor I.

2 thoughts on “Amoureux regardant l’île

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