LUCIE NATURAL, BRUCE FLAT
,

L NATURAL

I imagine you rising from the bed

To get a cigarette, to comb your hair,

To dress. And the organ tones of your voice

As you turn to tell me, naturally

I do not feel natural with you yet.

B FLAT

I’ll dream of you when you’re not here

I’ll miss your lurch, and slug

The pillow and sleep howl –

A broken chord, a kind of B flat,

Self invented and born

In your irresponsible mind

You’re just a boy, private and vulnerable.