Postscript To a Passion
POSTSCRIPT TO A PASSION
I was hoping you would prove me wrong -
Under the ship’s sides the barnacles still cling -
I would have thought you’d never sell our song
But true to typecast, summer mothering -
You, too, proved to be full of guile
To love meant having, which ever was the worst -
In the quiet of my trust, so deep, so fragile
I live down the purple passage of remorse.
I’d sing you happy but you were buffoon
To my trammelled wanderings a parody
Set stiff in coupled rhymes to swoon
With the ecstatic rhetoric of equality -
So passion plundered, what’s left is my disgrace
My jewelled head tortured in your embrace.
FROM IN MEMORY OF HER, 2004, 2008
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