Still Loving

The quiet eye

underestimates

our ankles,

soft against

each other;

 

idles in

the under-

ground tavern

I sweep

in my mind,

deep into corners

and back

caressing

the wall.

 

I see

mid-tones

and heavy

jaws of the dark;

a few words

sifted, careless.

I’ve seen them.

 

I’ve seen you,

fly into a

man’s eye

and out again;

nearing the rope

I keep

in the cupboard.

 

Distant now;

a thousand

coloured balls

spin

across the

pupil.

 

Out of the room

I see you – white;

splash a bee

on the brick-work,

kick on your back

and see me

at the window.

 

14 February, 2018

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4 Responsesso far.

  1. Vicky Curtin Vicky Curtin says:

    Thanks for the nice comment, Peter. It is a bit cryptic looking back on it. It’s a poem about observation, I think; seeing things one doesn’t want to see, going a bit mad, and then coming back to a more tangible reality. There is an innocence in the last stanza, which doesn’t fall too far from your baby image. Thank you for contemplating my poem!

  2. peterlebaige peterlebaige says:

    I enjoy reading this, Vicky, though I am far from an ‘understanding’, my impressions are myriad. For example, while thinking of a fly on the window looking back at the kicking baby in that last stanza, I can’t join this interpretation to what precedes this; but just want to let you know I enjoy running my mind over it all like smooth, but uneven pebbles in the hand.

  3. Vicky Curtin Vicky Curtin says:

    Oh good! I never can quite tell if anything works. Thank you, Dean.

  4. Dean English Dean English says:

    the ‘rope in the cupboard’ works well…

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