So fair her pulsing figure
Not so fair
The maniacal stare
Of a husband who’s much bigger.
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The people who live
Stand around in bundles of nineWhen asked how it feelsThey reply ‘Curried Eels’!Otherwise – everything’s going fine!
Pussy-cat
Catching ratsAnd eating mices!
Emptiness
I’ve learned mine can’t be filled,only alchemized. Many timesit’s become a paragraph or a page.But usually I’ve hidden it,not knowing until too latehow enormous it grows in its dark.Or how obvious it getswhen I’ve donned, say, my goodcordovans and my fine tweed vestand walked into a room with a smile.I might as well have been…
There must be a wound!
and not bleed.How could she injure me so?No marksNo bruiseWorse!People say ‘My, you’re looking well’…..God help me!She’s mummified me –ALIVE!
I cannot
No, I cannot love you lessLike the flower to the butterflyThe corsage to the dressShe turns my love to dustmy destination emptymy beliefs scattered: Diaspora!Who set this course – and why?Now my wings beat –without purposeYet they speed………….
‘Help, help, ‘ said a man. ‘I’m drowning.’
‘Help, help, ‘ said the man. ‘I’m not clowning.’‘Yes, I know, I heard you before.Be patient dear man who is drowning,You, see I’ve got a disease.I’m waiting for a Doctor J. Browning.So do be patient please.’‘How long, ‘ said the man who was drowning. ‘Will it take for the Doc to arrive? ‘‘Not very long,…