Saviour
I think you think I can save you
which I probably can't
though it's nice to have power
recognised as a life or death affair
instead of being categorised by the car
you drive, or in my case, don't.
It has an almost heady effect
like one too many tequilas
and there's a temptation to see
what's not there
or to ignore what is
like you: a vigorous black orchid
waiting to be blown away.
Only I won't be lulled by your exotic tricks
but will bide my time
fingering a carved quail's bone
and my possible role in saving you
I'll savor like the last black olive
gently infused with rosemary
that sits swollen in a silver bowl.
First published: Van Gogh’s Ear, World Poetry for the New Millennium, edited by Ian Ayres and Phillip Ward, Committee on Poetry/French Connection Press