A chess piece

You are a source of amazement
positioned in the room
like a chess piece
in the shape of
my desire.
I lean back in my chair
considering the lines of communication
between us: the brushing of sleeves
or my fingers
touching your soft palm
at the exchange
of coins.
You travelled here by bus
from your mother's house in Streatham.
The dark hair is raised from your neck
your pale skin taut.
A few strands remain
beyond your grasp
hanging like a bead curtain
across a private space.
The sunlight paints your cheekbone.
My eyes rest on the exposed areas
of your body like drops of water on stone.

Clapham, 1992


John Rule,2004
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