28/03/2015

#poem #poetry #amwritng #sketchbook #II

II

your hand, which was never touched
more than in passing - casuality -
again it reaches from the possible past
to rest on my knee.

                               everything here is fresh
without the need for food, or light.

- casuality - we only eat in tea rooms.
cakes, from three tiered plates, gentilitious
with tongs, raise fingers to drink
use forks to eat - carelessly formal.

the past is always formal and ordered

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