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| Love among the flowers |
Lies, lies, lies—
she still lights the dawn.
The world speaks lies,
only the gypsy tells the truth.
We carved our monogram
on the wall of the tiny chapel—
first and last, it’s always you.
Our scented little garden
breathes carnations and jasmine.
You touch me, I tremble
and when night falls,
we lie skin on skin and say welcome
to our children yet unborn.
On Saturdays, hand in hand
we saunter the village cinema
with a swarm of strapping sons
and a daughter with black curls,
beautiful as her mother.
I passed your house today.
It smelled of lavender and basil,
the door was bolted shut
and a pitch-black ribbon
tied to your bedroom window.
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