The Conquest
2001; Johns Hopkins University Press; Volume: 24; Issue: 4 Linguagem: Inglês
10.1353/cal.2001.0267
ISSN1080-6512
Autores Tópico(s)Irish and British Studies
ResumoThe Conquest Claire Harris i came squalling into the world (paying no attention as usual to the welter of blood and muck (until it was too late i was born of love they said by the time i thoughtto ask too late a sort of anthem i sing as one day the earth will sing methen i who held in dawn light your head in my hands felt your lashes flicker gainst my lips seized your body named every hill every cleft & valley my tongue your flag once sparrows squabbling i in the blaze from your eyes smiled sure your joy a wind storming among the roses bends them to its pleasure their various scent rich faint delicatedrifts around us climbing in pale northern noon the hill [End Page 1041] towards the house you run the last steps scale the verandah where i wait for you dressed in water now in the evening of this perfectly still day i listenalone our child silent in the grass this thorn tree a gift you said scent of sun of Africa stick grey its small leaves unfurl into bloom even in that small room dwarfedi have learnt once i dreamt you a tenant of the heart thinking you would buy would need to but you did not too warm in winter and when it stormed windows rattled besides the new one cheaper what could I say? the deciding factorso i smiled grace is allyou weren't surprisedi sent you white carnations threaded with black silk a gesture toward still no wild surmise i am a poet what is a poem if not a spell [End Page 1042] i bathed in sweet sage i oiled with cocoa butter on a tin tray lit mass candles white wax then red & black i sprinkled grave dust on pillows holy water and low slow prayed the bed my note said today this city on the bow (yesterday's fall of snow morning 's hoar frost glitters we are bathed in light come to dinner you know how sweet my hand and I've your own red decanted i promise this i will not bore you with my love adult i know how hard it is for the one who is loved when his own heart does not cry like a dove in the throat when a kiss no longer sings life's like love's a gamble come you did and as i knew you would you took the bed afterwards you slept and i sang now in this silence the bluffs hasten to close around us now from memorial poplars ghosts issue like smoke towards the grey bowl of evening now below them the dying unaware snake metal coffins towards [End Page 1043] their graves their silent faces worn out and stretched in laughter the shimmer of lamps curving under the scent of this moment pale hollow now muffled bells shatter golden domes shower the world brick steel laminates concrete chips shards brilliant glass now our windows smiling into the tumult spill sharp rain rain hushed along the streets and the bow boils quiet into threatening water leaps to meet a moon that drifts in its own scar writhes in its cold flame now you will returnreturn and i will gather youmy love wrap you withthe wind creeping aboutyour limbs the crows writing onyour tongue the crumbling earth yougrope upon the rain scratching atwindow panes the dark dream flutteringfrom seams the sheet winding aroundyour sleep the binding root thatloops and anchors youwhere i am [End Page 1044] Copyright © 2001 Charles H. Rowell
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