Adult Reading

(i)
One hot day
when the leaves were fully out
green blotting paper given
to soak up poison from the air
citrus-gathered, close
lint for pain,

I waited in the car
with a Listener, alone
and how the reviewer said
these are grown-up poems
to share things with
that know of hurt, when
the world has gone to bed...
at night: skimmed on

to light on images, quotations.
Later bought the slim, dark
volume to take with me
into days and nights
discovering your shade and light
against a white page -
a sanctuary of adult reading
or so it seemed.

(ii)
Years later
after the Reading at the Voicebox
I queued up round the long table
where you sat and finally
reaching you, said,"Hello!"
saw you look up and
for a moment feared those
perspicacious, alert brown eyes

and needn't have
"Nice to see ther're some men
around." Your joke
wry and inclusive, just for me

and you
as your pen wrote your name.