RICHARD ZOLA
and no object moved on a shelf…no dust was disturbed....

the door opens
light moves across blue paint

light moves
the door closes

she he 

she enters first
she has 2 bags

he has 1

vegetables cans
through plastic

through a name

an aubergine 
falls from a bag
rolls towards the stove

he bends
puts the aubergine 
on the table

she heats coffee


he arranges cups
a bowl spoons

sits 
opens a magazine

she feels the street
on her skin
in this high room

sits
pours coffee
watches him

his hair

he folds the magazine
tilts paper in light

his eyes lowered
she sees skin

the window is behind him

she stands
walks across the window

the street moves right
she walks back
the street moves left

a child stumbles

the room is warm

she looks beneath the table
his shoe is torn

her feet naked
her shoes to the side

he reaches for a cup

she sees
his hands

one time she found a feather
made a quill
wrote bird

wrote BIRD

she begins to say:
i found a

says: 
takka t takka t takka
takka takka t
takka t takka t takka takka t

tikka takka

he puts the magazine on the table
dances

hair hands

she:
takka t takka takka t
takka t takka t takka takka t

he: 
dances

he she 
she he

you me

takka t

on the street figures fall

RICHARD ZOLA
when she talks her hands are still...sometimes she stands...then sits

when a child 
did she 
in illuminated water
embrace
copulate with an octopus

is what she told

she saw carrion crows
on fallen stone
in december

and the radio

in an attic
she lifted touched

and who was 
was she 

therese of liseux
near the well

there were roses

she wanted wooden shoes
with windmills painted

3 men with her
a voice:

the length of some grass
is determined by the wind

who 
which one spoke


she they 
standing in sharp grass
the sting of sand on flesh

and the corpse of a gull

men beneath the sand
dressed for sunday

hair combed

moving left right
with the movement of the tide

dressed for sunday 
in cardigans corduroy

breathing

are their eyes 

beneath the sand
open eyed

men in rows
and breathing

in the cafe near the boats
she ate from shells
the ova of mermaids

is what she told

is what she told

her brother 
erect in her bed

take this sock
there must be no stains

for her

she dug into peat

peat filled the spaces
between nail and flesh

on hands and knees
she bit through roots

beginning not at midnight

she dug in peat 
bit through roots

on a moor somewhere

she kissed a corpse

a corpse rose up

and she kissed the face

she'd come to bury

something

something shed found
now it was lost

taken


become stone

3 men with her

an octopus

in illuminated water

the sting of sand on flesh

if
a rose from therese of lisieux
had

fallen 


been carried to her door 
in the mouth of a shrew

she could would
have

if she could have
tipped the rose

inclined her head

had there been 
inside the rose

perpetually

some kind of

she waits for words

a curtain curves 
before a partly opened window