A Draft on Distant Desire and a Pot of Earl Grey Tea, Emilé Ricard (1983)

W. Sean Mosman Sinclair

For H.B.—A heathen’s resolve

Through tired Willows play
and go to sleep in words
Milk in the Teapot,
your voice on my tongue

I want to ask you so many questions
Cleaning to beat the Kettle so that I can come back
with nothing left to do, Even though
words sent out quickly won’t reach back to me
until sometime after dark

I want to tell you so many stories
So when you read this call me,
or indulge a silent hour against my ear
to know that you are breathing
Like I would know
if you were here reading your books
while I read mine.
…occasionally glancing up through the rain
To laugh at something serious

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