In a pub – as-dark-as-stout –
I pushed onto your parting as
you pressed your pursed lips
to align & your eyes sought a
confer from mine – all framed
by broken-back auld books –
spine-lined authors sat ‘cross
a run of shelving behind your
tipping head – typeset aura is
a take – I will read every espy
you share in this public house
