If I'm here in the Kitchen
If I’m here in the kitchen,
The signal’s good -
A strong four bars.
I can see the garden,
The abstract panels
Of dusk through the windows,
The dark, swaying vine
Conducting your words.
An unseen hand it brittles the line,
Dulls the brilliant reception -
So I go through the smells of the garden… and…
Out on the street, phone in hand,
I wave to a grinning child on the bus.
And our connection?
It’s suddenly crystal clear.