TO RA AND REMEMBERING VERITY FORSYTH   

I hear you still  

clear, sure -  

talking to me  

now  

as you would talk to me  

then;  

a corner of the garden room;  

a long table laid for tea,  

books piled up,  

shadows of poets and painters  

stirring;  

listening,  

as you hear me say  

what I do not say;  

as you tell me  

what I need to hear  

but would not:  

I hear you still  

I hear you now,  

I hear you.  
  

Skona, July 1997  

DATE

This cycle of poems was written in the Weald of Kent between March and September 1979; the last one 18 years later in July 1997, in Skona.

1

for this

there is always

time -

your fragmentary will

concocts hours

where the day

has none,

etches

a far horizon

forever

in the sun.

2

take only touch

and that electric guess,

hand to hand,

till hearts

rest within flesh;

till your touch

upon my face

moves inside.

3

you would stretch out,

draw me apart,

for though

you do not know it

your time

is mine.

would you want more?

would you change

the tide

that carries us,

sand within a stream,

toward the sea?

evenly,

4

loving you:

the picture

safe

in the cabinet -

mine,

the dare to remove;

the white palms

stick with sweat

now summer comes.

5

knives cut -

and death's unknowing,

cells grow and bones will break,

and still,

the starting point -

your face,

ghosts all the change;

leaves -

silence,

a space for shadows;

a space to turn within;

and lie at bay.

6

your cry

hollows the hour,

touches stars

that won't explode:

and break their hold.

but

can hurl javelins

up at space

7

you may not believe it but,

after the battle,

rain washed the blood

onto the village streets,

into the Weald.

night falls

on the Bloody Mountain;

a bird pulls

against empty light;

bats fold into the

outline of trees,

black on black.

above us

a harvest moon

burns a circle in the sky.

8

let us stay,

smoke awhile

walk between the silver trees

of the Cinders track.

night holds us;

we lie

beside a water tank,

listening;

water

dripping

drop by drop

waiting

where nothing moves

the moment on,

where nothing moves.

where the air

is cool and grassy

9

your heart is high,

sweeping high:

tempers,

slackens, on again,

states of difference -

not by joining

I, in love,

would move.

10

in

your awkward beauty

the landscape breathes

with you;

I rest

I play;

in skies

the peacocks fly.

11

do not hold back;

you should not fear

you shine

for you

have the brightest light;

and shine

as life.

12

come,

we will evade this,

armour ourselves

as night checks day;

and a smooth sly light

slides through the orchards.

the

last bird songs

drain the day

into a shoal of trees.

we can evade all this.

13

we will become fond of these days;

go over them tirelessly

as armchair generals

over maps.

we lay down

the living death

like bottles

in a cellar;

effortlessly.

14

the abacus moves

but I will not;

its beads have a sort of rhythm,

a pretended order.

do not listen.

silence has a safer sound;

even calls the directions

of a hidden road,

easily missed.

15

i 'd rather not

think;

or imagine,

know,

or even

suspect,

grieve,

celebrate,

wonder.

I want to

live easy.

why

should I be troubled?

16

yours

is the gift that brings together,

that calls me in

that keeps me here;

your arms

open;

your imprint

haunts

your body,

is a barrier of words.

17

the train passes places

where nothing has changed,

where life has gone on

just the same

all the time

I have been

so caught up.

it will go on the same

when this ends;

18

daily

the state deepens

and I concede

to this round

and to that

the bets I place

the game I play,

the cards that fall

far short

of what I make.

19

you smile:

the knife you wield

opens the knot

the quickest way,

I saw you

walking in fields,

a dancer,

naked,

slender as a scorpion.

dares all

do you know

what we do?

20

lost time

is life's regret:

death guilds its share,

the days

rob and bleed,

and time

smashes easily as glass.

the calendar

breaks a little more each day.

21

love in distance,

and,

all the time

I know

that behind me

he kisses you;

you

do not know

his blooded lips

smear and conquer.

each return

you see

gets closer.

22

you turn

your eyes,

catch up my glance;

hold it

like a mirror,

distorting

by all

it cannot see.

23

he had made

a plaything of fear;

caught it in the mirror

with the sun.

autumn will rush

before the Kentish hops

to dredge his glass -

and the image,

unreflected,

noiselessly dies out.

24

death kisses you;

the offering of suns

gluts in your heart;

an unaccounting change

removes your hand.

you wake;

but the rage for life

sleeps on.

 ...