Late arrival,
window shakes as the front door slams,
covers pull up against the coming light,
then a sweet voice flows across the dust...
and in your little room you squint and shake,
see a world alive with breath and whispers,
there’s a woman there you know you love...
yeah, she’s the spice of life.
Like a tickle in your ear:
hello? hello?
And she says:
No lucky charm bounces on my chest,
no crucifix, no ankh or star,
just a flash of red, a hearts fire contained.
