Wednesday, 12 August 2015

1 New Poem

Steel Sometimes Bends

Errant heat sparks the clashing
clatter of tea cart trays, straining
rail spikes, ties to
cement casing, careful poured:

how still, how silent, all,
but for those first unfelt tremors:

wheel turning once too fast, too often
a day, running ice cooled to
crevice shape, inching degrees imperceptible

until a swift stroke comes to bear.

But this was a metaphor, and now you
are “art”,

and I'd ask how it feels to be heat,
to inhabit steel,

but if you are so sincere,

I thought you'd hung the stars,
angled lunar shimmer so well, too.

No comments:

Post a Comment