the lullaby

I’ve got the darkness stamped in
the light, a fossil leaf

in a book,
a one way ticket, a fractious
deed.

Could it be youth who stared
down darkness
in an empty street,
underrated,
without a view?

There’s always a slogan for balancing
one against the other,
so here comes the ornate, sacred
love of enigmatic skin,
and then transcending all that
on a yoga mat.

Slowly the lullaby rises
in your throat, and you, my love,
holding out your porcelain cup
for a nice poached egg.

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