While he lies beside me in the dark, he is drifting
in his brain, behind closed eyelids
while I lie thoughtless
he remembers a boy of six
in his mother's closet,
surrounded, in an arena of scent and colour
leather and suits, and a neat line of shoes
he slips his hand into a pocket
of a coat with a grey and white weave
and finds the cold, hard cylinder--
dark red lip stain
that he paints experimentally across his palm
then leaves the closet
as he found it
in his brain, behind closed eyelids
while I lie thoughtless
he remembers a boy of six
in his mother's closet,
surrounded, in an arena of scent and colour
leather and suits, and a neat line of shoes
he slips his hand into a pocket
of a coat with a grey and white weave
and finds the cold, hard cylinder--
dark red lip stain
that he paints experimentally across his palm
then leaves the closet
as he found it