Poem for now...

The Day

was picked out with particular clarity; each action and its consequence,

each conversation, carried a charge,

a peculiar fateful prickle. Even the leaves on the weeping ash seemed preternaturally

green, even the fall of light on the pond

seemed to assert itself with a painterly significance. Each perception carried an odd

freshness - as if something amazing had happened,

thousands of miles away, as if a painted lady had shaken out her wings and the waves

rippled into corner shops, dusty wardrobes,

the far reaches of provincial department stores, lifting the undersides of cells.

And I, myself, radiated energy; it fizzed and buzzed

from my fingers and hair like a power. I bought a bunch of flowers, and the chip-and-pin

gadget seized up - I could feel my crackle

freeze its digital groove, scatter integers. And each smile was vivid that day,

like it was the first

and last time that face had ever smiled. A net of starlings was an act of God, and

a sunflower sent me to my knees,

lost in the swirl of its milky way head.


Popular Posts