Posted by: David Harley | July 7, 2013

Flash Flood (Nudes with Landscape)

So we lie
the rain still beating stolidly
against rib cage and sternum
though the thunder has died away
and the lightning faded
behind sleep-sodden eyelids

Ochreous, turbulent water
no longer conceals the ecological truism
that a desert that blooms every ten years
is still a desert

Shall we pretend it’s easy?
Will we pass illicit days
suspended beyond disbelief
and the ebb and flow of the everyday
or should we settle
for emotion recollected in hostility?

Am I to become a collector
of diamond-hard dreams
haunted castles in the air
ice-sharp visions of infinitely fragmented depths of field?

Romancing the stony-hearted
craving the brittle desperation
and fragile ecstasies of body heat
I have graduated from footsie with the faithless
to screwing the sceptical
penetrating only to the inert core of silence
where Little Devil Doubt has proved
the most persuasive of major demons.

I have awoken
from the smallest of deaths
to the deathwish
you left on my pillow
as if it were a rose

I will spare you nothing
despite – or precisely because of – the possibility
that I might have loved you


Published in Vertical Images 1, 1986. Copyright David Harley, 1986.


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