The Upstairs Neighbor
by David Allen

Chocolate warm as blood
drips off the pan's lip.
The cake blazes in six ounces.
 
An atmosphere below, the street
threads the vinyl plane
of cream and bitter cocoa.
 
A lunar eclipse creeps. The cake
cools on a dresser.
On the balcony my cigar's
 
cherry replaces the moon.
Beyond, a woman smokes
outside her apartment.
 
Her back against the brick
convulses in a cough, sifting
screw-top wine. I don't want
 
to know her. I want to
touch her, tell her this cake
holds this world for a while.

»Back to Poetry List