Clutching Our Styrofoam Cups

Just ask Him, somebody said

Then somebody else

Clutching our styrofoam cups

Ask Him into your hear

Into my heart?

Into my windowless, squatters' nest heart?

And, so I did

By moon and in absolute Black

Eyes tight or aflutter

Upright in a chair

Or felled like a timbermill tree

I asked him into my heart

I did so again

And again

Over the next grimy years

I asked him into the box of my heart

I last asked a month ago or so

Then, it dawned on me

Between pills, rum and slumber

It dawned on me like the tap on the shoulder

Made by a falling piano

I'd been no suitable host

My heart was not warm and inviting

Its clutter was blocking the door

Its walls were thickened with declarative spray paint and spit

I had nothing to offer by way of a comfortable chair

I thought to myself, there is time

(For I believe in such things when they suit me)

I had time to tidy and scrub

To sort and to haul and to make us some tea

And do something or other

With this face