STREAMER

lace of contrail
bitter cold
that window of sky
before the clouds came by
and streaming rains
that rush against the glass

and the radiator strives
shivering out its thin heat

unwell the darkness in your eyes
swells
your anger hitching in your breath
we sip our tea
and search the rooftops
green with light
this thick pressed front
is walking in

our history dwells
like static between us
the passion a ghost
we are formal
passengers
in a grey pic

you will ask for your
needs that run hot
beneath your soul
and I shall refuse

the tea will grow cold
when you slam the door
and I shall take
the carnival down
this machinery of love

and watch the rain
and darkness fill
the room