unopened eyes
heard the curtains stir
paper swish sound
a note
slipped under
my chamber door
in all these days
you have never ascended
through the mitral archway to the atrium
from your room
flights below
you have the only key
there is no need to visit
proximity being the point
apical
i am intrigued
with the urgent
inked vellum
still warm
wax seal emblazoned
i wish to read the words
a year in coming
inside the tidy ventricle
you penned them
the never traveled
hallway
your
soaped skin
haunts the air
i flow osmotic
to your empty
compartment
my ear pressed
to the septum
i pass through
semipermeable
unlocked valves
you are off showing the world
you were expecting me
fire still lit
a place set for me
upon the writing desk
fresh bread coffee
milk and honey
i warm myself
break the seal
and read
your humble request
my pleasure
a simple task
for this kitchen witch
from my cabinet
high john the conqueror root
scrumped pomegranate
grains of paradise
all for boil
upon the hearth
magic concocted
for a touchstone
warm embers
stirred to blaze
good thoughts sent
into the air
from this place
where
we live apart
together
One reply on “the quill and the plume”
hmmm. four chambers and a coffee roll… beautiful piece.