I have this apology
for C.S. Lewis
this robe worn
in the early dawn hours and evening
in my house is reminiscent
of Jack’s smoke-infused dressing gown
seen in one of his few popular photos
disheveled
paunchy with pipe
perhaps slippers unseen
crumbs from an open tin of biscuits
on its sleeves
amid a Kilns’ reading room of open books
tomes with solid bindings
thoughts of the timeless
dog-eared pages reread and translated
mine color and pattern similar
a mere way
mostly to cover the draft
lounging in front of the telly
sipping sweetened banali-tea
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