From the midnight chorals
that hang over festivities,
presents remain unopened
on a sofa with a casual leg
under warmed arms.
Into a magazine cover
an overheated lamp hides,
it is now switched off;
pen circles round a tv listing
of Hitchcock’s “Rear Window”.
Just the hover of wired lights
that redevelop inside the room
given a sunset’s brooch;
a background knowledge
of things seen, beauty known.
Hitchcock directs the sequence
that enters an angelic face,
intoxication to make me review
the grace of natural style,
and believe it resides here.
