December 31, 2009

La Manche

Where mermaids gathered once to sing
for kings on rocky thrones,

past trees that grow up tall and strong
from the roots of dead men's homes

and a bloodless battlefield
where everybody lost -

there hangs a shivering bridge, alone,
above its brother's ghost.

To hear the mermaids, there, to sing,
their kings to sleep upon their thrones,

I slipped and blushed there, among the rushes
and the slippery stepping stones.

In the atomic cotton candy sky, the stars
may smirk and turn away, and roll their eyes
until they're cross'd.

Bugger the stars. There's nothing can be found
that hasn't first been lost.

September, 2009.

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