tea at four, for three

you and your new friend wanted tea, so i went
in the kitchen and prepared some, rock
cakes on the side.

(how english, how "healthy," how pretentious all this is.)

i made a third cup for myself, arranged
everything on a dainty tray
and when you both were not looking,

poured something inside one of the three teacups.

i returned to you
two in my living room, smiled
like a ridiculous butler.

and then you were smiling at me, too.

only your eyes were not, and your friend was
telling you something, but you can not
hear him.

i placed the tray on the table, and served you

each a cup of black tea. i took
the remaining cup, and drank the tea,
the poison laced with the scent and flavor

of bergamot and sorrow.

Kidding

I told you once about gray, like being half-awake, half-asleep

The handsomeness of gray, how it holds a promise
of unuttered meaning lurking behind the flatness, dullness of ash

But then you agreed about what I said,
and how am I supposed to say I was lying?

Ashes

I sit on the edge of the bed, smoking cigarettes,
dimly aware of a pillow that has fallen on the floor,
nicotine melting the lump in my throat

I like the way the yellow lamplight casts
my shadow against the absurd smoothness of the walls,
my skin like a thick blur

A last puff, then I toss the cigarette into a dark corner,
perhaps right into the waiting petals
of my potted plant's perfect new flower