Abela Asleep 1972 Poem by Terry Collett

Abela had gone to sleep.

You lay there awake
listening to her breathe
and late night revellers
along the hotel passages.

You had both been
to a concert in the city
a string quartet had played
late Beethoven stuff.

Afterwards you boozed
a bit at bars then came back
to your room and undressed
(quickly) and had sex
no foreplay too urgent
she had said.

Now she slept
sound as a child.

You lay awake
thinking of
the Croatian waitress
with the bright eyes
and smile
and tight black dress
and how she swayed
as she walked.

Abela hated that
how you watched
the swaying.

Now she slept
and maybe dreamed
of you and her
or not as the case maybe.

You lay there
like some sea captain
gazing out
at a dark sea.