Monday, 30 May 2011

words, for a change

Saint Death
 
This is how I like to picture her,
as they do in
Mexico; Santa Muerte,
 
who, with flowers as bright as fireworks
against the dark folds of her dress,
 
follows behind me
like Eurydice, just out of sight.
 
Although her naked skull is tongue-less,  
she speaks insistently as I walk;
 
See the shape of the air
in the movement of the water,
and the light that glows through grass.
See sky, the colours of its vastness.
Hear a bird’s wings beating,
feel your lips parting as you breathe.
See
before you slow
and I reach you.
 
I am, of course, alone – it’s just a game -
but now nothing else matters:
 
green blades are luminous in sunlight,
my tongue is wet against my lips,
 
and in the sky,
a buzzard,
its eyes earth-locked,
 
the pitiless, focused silence.


1 comment:

  1. Beautiful, just beautiful. I like this so very much.

    ReplyDelete