Windows Emitting Yellow Light Poem by Bernard Henrie

He asked that the walls
of his new flat be painted
dull orange;

an ochre of light brown yellow
that would yield hues slowly
as though compelled by vast
breakers from an imaginary sea.

The kitchen, where he would boil
in grand and bulky caldrons
haunted and unreal tars,
candle wax and flax he painted
an offish white, like a doctor
cool and neutral in a sick ward.

He would avoid the kitchen
and wash away all food smells.

The tub was acrylic, shinny,
glossy and allowing long soaks
where he curled like banana leaf.

He set-out brightly etched jars
of hybrid plants, and large basins
of paraffin fruit. The hardwood
floors slick as a dessert fork.

The French windows admiting
pearls of scattered light
reminded him of a mausoleum at
St. Botolphs.

From a city bathed in purplish
dusk, a Japanese woman emerged
walking toward him with a floret
on her lapel.

On the third day he began to cry
without ceasing, the affect was
that of a man waiting for a taxi
in the rain.