Hartog’s Den

by Nalin Ratnayake

methane beyond the glass staggered
warms my feet like the bergamot wafting
from my tea warms the soul.
ah… perfumed lifeblood, and caffeinated too,
sharpening the mind as the hours get late
and the rain taps the windowsill for the fourth day running.

I remember mornings, earl grey steaming
from a microwave just beside the bed,
and a little pan that would cook us Cajun eggs,
cramped in a closet of a kitchen,
and we two snuggled under extraneous covers sharing
bergamot kisses.

and bergamot kisses remembered are the hardest on the heart,
cutting right down to the melancholy part of me that misses you
I want to share a tea and be with you again,
watching the rain together again.

a recluse these days, listening to the tap-tap, sipping,
eyeing warily that knight on f8, ripping
CD’s I left behind last time, sitting in
my papazan smelling scented black leaves
as the flames of the fire fade,
tinting the tiles the color of your hair when you’re asleep.

and bergamot kisses remembered are the hardest on the heart,
cutting right down to the melancholy part of me that misses you
I want to share a tea and be with you again,
watching the rain together again.