Deja Vu

Deja Vu

Tom Verlaine is talking to Indirah

He points out the marquee moon above the tall pines

She is adamant about the name of a particular rose

They are sipping cordial and wine spiced with kumquats

An ogee shaped cat is dancing the golden mean

Reverse curves and acanthus leaves frame a rotting painting

Of the Duke’s Mama; Marcus is shaking out a wet roll

Of paint, colours glitter and chime like broken teeth

His studio is full of wishes and concubines, he’s all mine

this time. Indirah is older than the Wandle, she likes spiced chai

Tom Verlaine has acne scars and beats a tattoo

On a small bodhran letting Indirah move like a young woman

Again, they slip down the centuries

Lying naked on a bed of ivy

The modern fibres have disappeared

Only shreds of silk and cotton remain

He kisses her hair

What does it matter what it said in the letter?

Each time she remembers

it’s different and better

Indirah and Marcus and Thomas Verlaine.


About Veronica Aldous

Writer and artist, Veronica is a lecturer is Fine Art and Creative Writing. Her first book of poems, 'Moon Cinema' is now available on Now there is also 'Mortal' her second book.
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