Les Kay

Cupboards Full of Swallows

          Senseless trees they cannot hear thee,
          Ruthless beasts they will not cheer thee:
          – Richard Barnefield

Later, after nausea fills the balcony,
we will part ways in forced silences
—of this we can be certain—as we
whistle tereu, tereu to the deaf forest
of pedestrians on October streets.
Let them grip their umbrellas like sabers.

Let them cut us off, momentarily, from
each other in their wandering. Let us
walk home, saving cab fare for another
day when the air is redolent with
papayas and passion fruit. Tonight, we
can wipe tears from our shoes and feast to
preserve treaties between our miniscule
kingdoms. The pantry is not yet laid bare.