grass
covered hills torn from the rivers'
winding
course that cleaves two nations,
summated
by the literary stacks,
essays,
treatise upon the lives there,
fine
art reflects this harsh grey beauty
in
pastels and oils, and numbered
prints
of impossible sunsets.
venturing
here for the weekend we come,
the
tiny hotel lodged near Black Mountains:
to
present dream and possible future.
we
stay and eat, the rivers trout,
delighting
in this aquatic of duel nationality,
discovering
our bodies in shared liqueurs,
coffee
and after eights.
the
mountain ranges a silent shroud
from
others knowing, we close
the
curtains removing possibilities,
until
there is just one.