white lily

Nighthawks, Chianti and the moon

keep me and my mother company

settled rigidly side by side

books brought but unread

praying for companionship

sharing a plate of cut fruit 

laid out on the brick patio

Guilt as a goddess lounges near

wringing both her hands 

she refills our glasses 

red and ceremonious, quaffed 

we swoop in and out

admiration and bafflement

isolated in our search to love the other 

between us a heavy vase bears a white lily

the shadows move as they always do