Lines
I
I am nature’s
church dew’s rest
flight’s grave
a wide white eye
and hell for the butterfly.
II
Stare at the delicate, antique eye
draw back
to original frosts
the web’s dew-poised
angular cling
and balancing act.
An adult’s brightened eye, raised hand,
Our broken walks, wintertime
At the holly
Such skeletal fallings.
III
Mine the insecticide
mine the bed
and this the line
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the captured wing has read.
The auspicious eye, Madhubani, India, Dhirendra Jha
Afterwards,
He says
“it would be good
to find a woman as bright
as me.”
She uncurls, thinks;
not unlike burial
lying here
before light comes.
The room so black
a charcoal smear
their limbs bare.
Him, her,
ash, bone
a cigarette
smoking out
and where on earth
to go from here.
Goldfish (detail), Gustav Klimt, 1901-2
A Pair Of Whales’ Fin Earrings
No tail, no head to speak of,
dismemberment converses
here,
in this severed fin jammed
straight through. Little harpoon
close as a thought
you hang at my lobe
like an echo.
Were there whales
at Lilliput
did they send two here
to score this ocean and
drift
my ears’ dark avenue
so I wouldn’t forget you.
Nude, East Sussex, Bill Brandt, 1957
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