Him and I

 
 
Talks in Aramaic
paints in acrylic,
a mixture of language
and time in his hands.
 
Stands in the corner
watches the curvature,
the universe he spies
never lies.
 
Building scale models of
historical figures from
matchsticks he found in
the ashtrays of tutors.
 
And you’ll make a fuss, say
that this isn’t poetry, as if you
know what goes on inside me.

© 2019, John Smallshaw.