Saturday, February 17, 2018

Later I Sing

Overnight a blue-blood moon on the sea's clear water,
their voices sloshing through an open window, recurrent
light in the evening skies stretch out in waves, mermen
of mauve that murmur from the harbour. Rumbling

on the road slowly sprung the future time backs out
a vast breath and buzz of human birdsong. Come fly
with me across the sea new age beauty tools of rage

spring much like life, this shadow noise a tiny ego.
Hopes newly thrive sight through from what next
door a crashing quay of building's beep, mid-morning's

prayer waking from fear, clops quiet upon the pillow.
The year's roar in tooth and claw from the safety
of a honking car, chained our beaks one last time,

in such voices of our sea-worn breath that opens doors
when morn comes round, and the mere fact of our existence
remains, flickering naïve their wonder that has come.

Powerful it coasters out, enters our minds, even
in these days of endless ordinary language, magical
opens up our returning tribe of Her spiritual mermen.

(Write-thru of Rising Late by Derek Mahon.)

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