Moving In

The first act of love in a new house is not private. Loving each other we are half-aware of door and mirror. Our ecstasy includes the bedside chair, the air from the landing. Street-lamp and elm utter leaves on walls as in no room ever. Theirs is the tongue our tongues join in translating. Their message is clear: tonight you cannot ignore the world at the window. So we love in the knowledge of a city at a different angle. And sharing our bed with furniture and tree we claim their perspective, merging our lives here in their established frame.