The Study

The space behind a bookshelf is an aperture

Floor to ceiling concealing

a place to fold your salted secrets

Into old paper and leather and linen.

Kick up your creased black penny loafers

And play the album front to back

Green velvet melodies and brass intrusions.

Polished mahogany etched with agonies and lusts

The rings of champagne flutes and

water stains of rocks glasses The breaths caught in the throats

Catching dripping wax from candles

And sweetness from the apex of her stance.