|Posted: 18 December 2005 at 3:47pm | IP Logged
I gave you the forest,
Full-leaved, carefully escaping itself;
Its carved secrets ringing in
The shrinking mouth of a lost bird.
You took it, direct as a prayer.
The way a child receives an alien
Fruit, or discerning fly
Addresses a casual wound.
And we settled. Inseparable
Yet estranged in our sharp-shaped thoughts,
Dropping from the steps to
The muted absence of what lay ahead.
It was a place borrowed
Where we borrowed ourselves,
Warped in time’s rumours.
With vines. Flint.
And you smiled across the
Interlude to a vanishing point:
A hint of verge where the white stone lay-
Its dreams still learning;
Its lyrics, grey.
(from my next collection)