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A lazy noon
stirs me from your memory to this glass of tea
and a wondering embrace

In a mood busy with inquisitiveness
I smell the lees of the scent
that lingers
behind you

I sense your shade in the shadows
in the dregs of all that gossip –
Oh you sinner!

Like a rumoured prophet’s advent
you slide from the ripe fruit of sleep
afire with ideas, your flashing wit