Office Affair

Finding her at the window he said,

"Before the summer goes, we'll sit

under that tree." She stared down

into the little park saying nothing.

His resolve foundered. It was April

before she found him- "About that tree... ."

Under the green dome they sit a practised

handspan apart, miming languor,

watching each other behind the veil of words,

calculating the angle of approach,

crafting censored versions of their pasts

with some cautious slippage towards the truth.

The autumn air moves. The tree looses

citron leaves down through the mottled light

on to his cardigan, into her hair.

They fall silent. She brushes his shoulder.

Delight flows into his half

of their small hour-glass.