For the beautiful woman who cooked gingerbread for me
Such contentedness! I'd like to call
this evening first of many. May I?
You know we shared, if only for three hours
the simplicity of solitude —
a miracle! which lingered in
the air around our words, our crumbs, our dishes.
There are worlds where human halos
come from dreaming or from falling
where death can make the sky rain yellow flowers —
but in our world signs are only subtle
and simple as your gingerbread —
And prophecies are hard to tell from wishes.