THE INNER COURTYARD
THE CAFÉ GARDEN
A bus roars outside the café garden and
chases the stone and water silence to
ivy dark corners. For a moment sound
is a wave of dust and road crashing through
thin brocade sky of Japanese cherry
and ornamental plum. Fills our empty
cups – empty, Strains the credibility
of my last sentence – brings tears I rarely
interpret to your eyes. The bus cuts
us in two. What was said; what was left unsaid.
A bus drains from the café garden – soft wash
through the portcullis of stone and leaf red
silence. The table is empty. Birds take
the crumbs away while someone gathers plates.
TO ONE MORE PRECIOUS THAN JADE
after newspaper classifieds
015. MISCELLANEOUS, GENERAL-
I couldn’t fight the war
or the worst battle of all,
We both fought
the rest badly;
if you’re still in Sydney
I need you for more
than shaking after dreams
and the awful years between.
I love you Ching-ai-ter. JIM.