BURNING BRIGHT

I was working
On her poems
Typing away
On my portable Olivetti
Her first book
Sensual poems
Love poems
Poems of desire
Poems of hope
Of pain
And redemption
Of death
And something
Called life
Loving her
Amongst all
That poetry
Seemed like
The natural
Next step
There is something
In the poetic
That works
Like an aphrodisiac
There is always
An element
Of seduction
That lives
Between the lines
Of most poems
It’s like the sun
That shines on my face
As I write
Sitting in this car
A raft at the center
Of this sea of traffic
And the weatherman
Called for rain
But the sun
Is burning bright