Wednesday, March 16, 2005
A rough draft of a poem for yesterday
They say that I will find you somewhere new
but I don't think you'll move from where you stand.
A curse is on me, surely, for I planned
to kill the things dividing me and you.
These things include the borrowed and the blue,
and circles hewn in stone, and grains of sand.
A living Kentish oyster that you threw
into the Medway with a shaking hand
has travelled all the way across the world
and found me sitting on a shore alone.
I shiver in my seaclothes, plans unfurled,
And crack the oyster shell with hands of stone.
I swear that I will never love again
and then come gusts of thunder, bringing rain.
but I don't think you'll move from where you stand.
A curse is on me, surely, for I planned
to kill the things dividing me and you.
These things include the borrowed and the blue,
and circles hewn in stone, and grains of sand.
A living Kentish oyster that you threw
into the Medway with a shaking hand
has travelled all the way across the world
and found me sitting on a shore alone.
I shiver in my seaclothes, plans unfurled,
And crack the oyster shell with hands of stone.
I swear that I will never love again
and then come gusts of thunder, bringing rain.
