Guilty Pleasure by Karen Minns

In all the world
to write that, tonight. Conjuring
water
In the middle of the room;
stars
in their winter fields;
the soft scent of hair.
A clean, slow burn.

Beautiful.

Your name rings to it.
Beautiful, it slips around my ankles.
Beckons
toward the open window:
Yes, and yes,
the hyacinth is in bloom.
The air, liquid, again, Yes.

Night birds
click and wicker, their warble
mixing
in cool layers, up from the ground.
Beautiful. The bright light patches
across the gorge;
golden stucco, adobe,
Spanish tile.

All the dreams
we’ve been given,
Tonight,
say it close, now:
Beautiful.