I own two wooden chairs

Two ordinary wooden chairs

On occasions I sit on the beach

And wait for the incoming tide

To bury these my possessions


I have been alone since Maureen

And have slowly developed

An emotional vacancy

This said I am sheltering

A homeless girl in my apartment


The girl is mute and younger in years

We communicate only in glances

I cook for her and provide a private bed

One of my wooden chairs

Sits unused under her city window