Posted by: David Harley | June 29, 2013

Take a Poem, Ms Smith

Hours on
from satiation and sleep
she steals from the bed
of husband, lover, child

wrapping herself
in a dressing gown
that need not be her own
she huddles before the fire
in rapt illicit communion
with peremptory Muse and indifferent notepad
struggling to impose form and coherence
on shifting perceptions

Such graceful triangles are wedges
like any other:

a meeting of eyes or fingers
a momentary significance of incivility
a realignment of emphases
to other centres of uncountable,
unaccountable universes

fine-tipped brutalities
deepenings of the grain
that season and rive
the once-green sappling

On Parnassus
the Goddess disregards such issues
or murmurs only that the Tree of Life
is an assemblage
of many such rivings

Published in Chaff 4, 1987. Copyright David Harley


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