Monday, 20 October 2014

1 New Poem

Dancing In Peacetime

When you silence the sputter-chain,
broken fences mended in the cast-cattle
lightning, down-pouring collarbone dress
seem at the ribcage, when you spoke in
those dawns at war's end.

In these ballgowns Victorian, the elegant
glint of sapphire ladies' handgloves, shimmering
of Edwardian day lakes in tea leaf etching,
you becalm beneath the hollow echo of our age,
the smirking devilish necking up of Legion
Hall cacophony, with word it was:

“Let us be young, dancers in long shadow,
in splendid ignorance of callous train speeding,
metal-on-metal embrace of future's foreboding
and, for the nights of washing stone smooth ambiance,
enjoy the peacetime's silence.”

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