talk of doves in the foyer

I hear your shoes dropping one by one from your slender feet
hear your skin whisper on the scars of the floor
the tap creaking out its thirst in the drinking glasses

the crows scream their cry and a car with a fat
exhaust idles
and light like a bright lace draws itself across
one breast
I watch your stomach tame the gulps of water
the stray drips travelling down the fine ribcage
cresting the cuddle of flesh
and drop past the whorl of your navel
to darken your toes and gleam on the
chipped polish

"balls" you say with eyes speaking volumes
and you turn on the ball of one heel
and stride off

the television is selling me car insurance
in the empty living room
and my lonely shoes want to be taken
for a walk