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This is simple as simple comes. He refills
your wine glass before you can argue.
There are no
New Wars, only episodes
of that same crude, ancestral fever.
But every love’s a new thing—feels it—knotted,
frail collaboration. Fill his glass
with those deeper lees.
The foghorn, rusting of rain on park heroes,
low vespers of a glacial river all
give news enough for now. Refill his
mouth with the warm red wine
of your tongue, this is simple
as simple comes.
- Heighton, Steven.
News From Another Room (Simple).Canadian Literature 179 (2003): 55. Print.