Masala Tea and Oranges

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Masala Tea and Oranges
by E. Doyle-Gillespie

Night smells rise with crushed
cardamom steam and I can see
you, again, perched atop my body,
your smooth belly rising and falling
to the city sounds from the street
below.
I rest my hands on your Portuguese hips--
your mother's only lasting gift to you--
and watch as tan skin and ripe, full pomegranate
breasts collect the trickles of red neon
that slip in from the Half-Moon Cafe'.
And when I open my eyes, I find that
you have left masala tea and oranges next to your
manuscript on the night stand,
my favorite books are gone from the shelf,
and I am late to my appointed rounds.