TONIGHT THE CHERRY TREES AWAKEN
In the faded, municipal courtyards
at night the cherry trees awaken.
A roiling congregant struts around.
Moths bubble softly
against a pear, balcony three-high.
Sound, he looks up. Naked as an asparagus
she bulges out of the green velour. She smiles.
For a moment the pilot light flares and the ivy
of meaningless letters the wind
used to write itself.
A bunch of keys rattle.
His hand pulls off the sliding lock.
Trees muffle their roots.
The smell of fresh bread wafts
unwanted from the street.
He sits down in the shabby shack
and as soon as the first light
sweeps into the fogged-up window
his eyes begin to move
as curtains sometimes do
in spy films.
Martijn Benders – From: Karavanserai, my debute collection, 2008, Nieuw Amterdam Publishers.
Available soon as part of my ‘Tract of the Sun’ collected works.
