My Request for a Kiss After Dark Yields No
Affair so I Leave a Parting Gift in Heavy Rain
Standing in front of your door, its weight so
blatant, its iron knocker a dare, I purse my
lips, sobering up.
It’s late and it’s wet; the sleepless streetlight
barely dents the dark but the puddles watch
me wait, sobering up.
The rain comes again and with its persistent
tapping demonstrates more courage than I,
so I push a book through
your letterbox and leave, imagining the spine’s
thud, the whir of pages and the covers’ clap,
the still quality of your porch
disturbed, if only momentarily. On the empty
night bus home I take out my mobile to delete
messages from the sent items folder.
James Bruce May is a British writer based in London where he studied creative writing on Goldsmiths’ MA course and as a bachelor at Greenwich University. http://jamesbrucemay.blogspot.co.uk @james_bruce_may