Coal Oil Point No. 3

The curtains part
as air moves from empty bedrooms
past me.

Voices strike up outside.
Inside I strike a match.
Damp curls of smoke
rise toward the windows.

There is a woman in the kitchen
brewing tea
a woman with strong legs.
After the tea is poured I lose her.

I get up sweating.
I open a window.
I am in and out all night.

William Timberman