The Fire

when i smile do my eyes scramble and scan
off center as the question direct?
does the corner of my mouth freeze in place,
performance curtain lack of intent?
if i step in time can i design
a movement that feigns desire?
can the perfect wife fake one more night
can she joke and laugh and dance
without the fire?

can the blanket of gray at the end of the day
conceal a sigh of regret?
can the shadow of a form deign to affect or
disguise dearth of content?
if i wine and dine, if there's rhythm and rhyme,
mandate and motion and will
if i follow the map, or outline the task
can i lip-synch or pantomime
the perfect script?

BRIDGE:
thursday day is scheduled precisely
friday night a dinner affair
by 6 o'clock hors d'oeurves from the market
the dress, the makeup, the hair
the doorbell rings, the cocktails clink
the conversation a smart, snappy din
with stone and lintel and steel and sheen
i'm architect and hostess
of a stylish scene

the party begins to dwindle and sputter
the room empty as the air is thin
with landscape and chatter
the heart of the matter
can defy all but peripheral vision
if i close my eyes, if i fantasize
a movement that feigns desire
can the perfect wife fake one more night
can she joke and laugh and dance
without the fire?