He never did

He never did

Lift his head

Above the top of the glass

On the table in front of him

But his eyes were alive

With movement

Swallowing the room

Whole

Nobody knew the trouble he saw

But he bled misery

Out of every pore

Some said he was a dead poet

Rotting from disinterest

I heard the rumours

I didn’t start them

The one time I heard him speak

He said,

“When did you last find yourself

Lost for words

Flustered

Heat rising in your cheeks

The beat of your heart

Quickening

The pounding of drums

In your ears

At the sound of a voice.

The shape of a neck the featherlight hairs

At the nape.

The hint of a smile

In the half-light

The way hips move

The scent of a woman

Unperfumed.”

Nobody said a word

Although everybody heard.

“I did once.”

As the moon died

The candle gutted,

The light went out of the room

He disappeared,

Nothing remained

But the empty glass

A shadow of grief

And the coin

He left on the table.