Tuesday, 12 November 2013

Into a time the colour of Hamlet.

Adieu defeated light, farewell dangerous leaves;
let silent foes night-dream, let them clatter
to fill the vacuum, as distant stars defeat hope.

Clouds drift, a hand trails across the bed,
the way a leaf slides along concrete,
outside the drawn, quartered, window
old men and women, water precise gardens,
sleep in little rows neat as Noddy’s street.

An empty page flutters for redemption
a voice utters hoarse recital; moon hears not 
the plea, Muse sleeps in thorny bower,
Trickster shadows play at inspiration, cause nib 
to scratch at white paper - as useful
as childhood hands at summer’s mosquito bites.

Voices, faces, December memories -
carnival of lights glittering ‘Jesus Saves!’ -
knowing he does no such thing, 
not in these moments, not to these words.

Weight, waves, sounds, ripples, gratuitous music;
scared bodies make whoopee - churn milk into rancid butter.

Sleep, a net, particles of skin, the fish,
redemption, a cell’s unique ability
to reinvent itself so that every seven years
we pretend to be someone different.

No comments:

Post a Comment