picture (not mine) and poem (mine)

George Braque- Still Life: Le Jour















Watching the Windows
He stands there, looking eastward,
in dim praise at your presence.
The rain is falling through the streetlight

from nowhere. His favourite nuisance
is back again. He cannot wait to see
where you’ll meet, accidentally,

so your husband should never know;
your bedroom light a beacon, his sight
is clear: your husband will never know.

But it’s all been cryingly told
this morning, husband found the bills,
the evening ahead is quiet and cold,
the streetlight, for now, his whole world fills