Sitting

John Kavanagh

You look at me then away again eyes darting like one trapped.
In time I have come
to know you better than any.
Who else has seen the b.ints and cracks of crows feet
when your eyes tighten in a smile
of furrows ploughed in concentration?
The scraping passes unnoticed,
eyes lock, searching
I move again. You chastise. I rearrange my attentions
a restless model
uneasy with your gift.
Getting to know the sounds on black cardboard
of your crayon spreading me I watch you
listening to the distance that has come between us.