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.

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