Poem: Bitter Sweet Symphony

By MiNDFOOD

Poem: Bitter Sweet Symphony

Email SUBJECT: Do you love a symphony, I wait lean against stone archway
cold breeze whips round my neck, pull merino green jumper up to chin

we sit squashed together on wooden pews; heat pours down on head
feel your shoulder against mine, soft grey jumper zip undone. bow scrapes

cross black shiny strands of silken hair, sound hits chapel ceiling bright red
green and blue stained glass – I feel God in the room with you & I

glossy lacquered piano rolls over marble with straight back, music sheet
prised open. Keys slammed. Chandeliers float above and swing to vibration

flowers wrapped in stiff parchment paper gifted to the piano player
skate out of church with loud applause and swipe on my beanie and you

smile and say I look gangster. drive home through dark streets. fog hits
headlights. watch people leave library carpark one day after coffee & we

stare at the pigeons on the tiled rooftop. shadows leave and light dips
ominous black clouds and a rainstorm roll in: rocks car sideways. Street

lights flick on and we hold hands; your soft creamy ebony skin grasps mine
white over gear stick. I wait for you to stop talking and lean over to kiss you

and smell your neck, it smells of Lux soap. rain smears the windscreen as you
drive me home. clasping your fingers tight the next day we walk over cobbled

streets, kick stray auburn, crunchy leaves to Smith & Caughey’s where we eat
cherry pie and cream, thru my grandmother’s China cabinet down slow escalator

over clothing and nursery to heavy gleaming glass doors gold letters etched
bush walks thru mangroves, bright green ferns, dirt tracks, overlook Pōhutukawa

tuis rustling and swooping thru totara, eat fish and chips with sauce on our knees
with a view of the sea, Netflix & chilled overpoured gin in my lounge with meatloaf

one one-way ticket to Toronto 10,000 miles and I sleep alone in the spare
room, bed slammed against window, tear down the sheets. on the king single

night before your flight phone lights up and you’re at my letterbox postie plus
fabric bag held out to me, red sweater for the girl who loved a symphony

Jillian Leach
Auckland, NZ

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