Le paradis n'est pas artificiel …

November 07, 2014

Heather

(NB. a new arrangment of two poems)



i. la dangereuse

Few things are as beautiful as reindeer moss,


        glittering and drenched with frost; or the rattle of chestnut
brown leaves against the fall blue. Or the full lit moon, casting


        fleet, slip-away frostbows like evasive dreams; or my sister
hydroplaning in a midnight storm and wrecking her car.



ii. la noyée*

The last piano music I heard my sister play has just begun –


light through the greening heather of March, the distance between sprig and  rain


– snapped to a standstill in refrain: the rain falling, the sprig in a vase


and this in shadow to dissuade loss of colour, put out of the light


that final music: her hair untravelled by wind, curled up, kitten-thin.


Posted by delire at November 7, 2014 11:35 AM