Monday, 28 September 2015
This poem was originally published in The Rambler in 2014
I saw you through a different lens:
Warily, but with a wariness that stares,
As the infant faced with a fizzing sparkler
Clutches not with the hand but the mind.
The unfamiliar blood flowed anew
As at Pimms o’clock, you the king’s daughter
In an ever-sunny arboretum, listened to my voice
With a gaze –
A gaze my words trip over themselves to convey.
Noble, implacable, cool grey appreciation,
But that says little.
You became, as dawn, an inevitability.
Lips unkissed, tastes untasted, half negation,
I was the man running for the train
That pulls languidly but solidly away,
Your disappointment the screeching wheels.
When our floodgates opened in a disharmony of lips,
When it grips, and we see we are young
That this is the goal of hands and breasts and hips,
All that was forgotten. Like your beloved cats,
You are lithe, subtle, supple, smooth, sleek,
You evade and demand. Under an urging moon
As you nestled in my arm’s undeserving crook
I stopped yearning not to yearn,
Thought only of your laugh
(It is not the sound of it but the flash reward
Of red and white your lips and teeth bestow)
And made my flagging surrender.
Though you conquer, defeat is a good taste.
Though teeth collide, it is tongues
Which learn the waltz, which shimmer like transient duchesses,
Which dazzle and applaud.
These are not memories of you enough,
And so in a newly acquired resolution
I have begun once more to burn -
Though I know not where we go
You are a path
For which I gladly will postpone my destination
If you will walk with me awhile.