Violet by Benjamin Stainton

A confluence of stars
on the napkin she dropped.
I tasted her voice
from the opposite end of a long corridor.

Flowers lifted their infant heads
in the kitchen.
It rained on her garter.
It rained on her thigh.

Opal music
awoke the hungry ballroom.
I touched the sound
of stewing pears, unseen

behind a tongue.
A confluence of scents
spelt her letters in colour - Violet.
The bride drank a blue laugh.

On the lawn, red lanterns sang.
The light smelt of honeycomb, firs.
And wed evening washed his chin
in the cup of my hand. ​