To the Lighthouse

He’s reading Wolfe
He’s come to talk to
About her. Sitting in my office
To the Lighthouse tapping against his knee.

I sit down opposite him;
A table between.
The book’s now beside him.
The pages flickering under and between his

‘Sir, I enjoyed it more than Keats’.
The sound of a cricket game with the breeze
Boys on the lawn.

‘I’d like to visit a lighthouse.’
One night away from drowning