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From a small, shaded chandelier above
The kitchen table, a pearly sphere of
Ruffled tissue hangs, shadowed in its
Dark recesses, bleached at the ridges
Where it is fragile, pliant—a stemless
Rose, suspended from a chain of string.
He stares before him at the table and
Its small objects, leaning upon it with
His elbow and forearm. His front is an
Expanse of plaid, one shoulder half lit
From the window, the other sloping in
Weak shadow. He seems to hold back
A minor discomfort, resting a hand on
His knee. His head doubles the balled
Tissue : it is a soft orb of light, darker
Recesses below the brow and nose, at
His front great gentle curves—fissures
Only faint, and absent in their faintness.
He is crowned in delicate grey. As he
Watches before him, the light seems
To move in concert, holding him still.