Paul Archer - photo Paul Archer - poet, translator




The bamboo thicket we cut back
to clear the garden
has now grown over the ashes
from the barbecue
and the green mildew
has seep-stained the futons
where we lay restlessly
with heads of Kirin beer
and Suntory whisky
spinning on the ceiling.
But if each of us tries
to enhance and extend
the merely visual memory
and if we all do it at once
who's to say we can't resume
our roles and the repartee.
Because we deferred the
encroachment of the bamboo
on the villa, we deferred
the dust from the shelves
and the mildew stain
from the futons, but
we did not defer our lives -
and I will give you a birthday
present again and you will grin
and Adrian will play the guitar
and we will go down to the beach
at midnight, disturbing a lovers' car,
and after bracing the November ocean
you will hold the towel as I change
out of my swimming shorts
and coyly glance sideways
down the beach and its breakers.

© Paul Archer - All Rights Reserved