There is this
convoluted old kitchen
within
which I still dwell
waiting for the floor patches
to burst into dryment

You were sitting on the
draining board
only the tip of the toe
in touch with the floor
and you played the guitar
consequently
failing your B chords

but it is a good thing,
you said
for the touch of sentiment
will come where
the cleanness crumble

When I nodded and leaned
over to touch your
uncovered strip of belly
we spilled the water decanter