August 9, 2010

I once met a poet

Love comes from the city
Wearing a hat
Strapped boots
On an old ferry
Up the river
In jolts and starts
It rained that night
And you wrote bad verse
On a ballpoint pen

And love flew out
westward
Into the jungles
Where they camped
Around fires
And stones

And they tell tales
Of government
And road
And railway
And war
And real tragedy
Real stories

I once met a poet
Who spoke of loverliness
Emptiness
Under the bridge
Leaving behind a trail of ashes
With which to remember
Loverliness

I met a fable
She spoke of love
In the time of war
A ghostly lover
An old loverliness
Was it under the bridge I ask
She smiles
It was very very long ago.

No comments: