Finale of Seem

The dish the spoon had run away with sighed,
Remembering the way he used to feel,
Back when their flight was new, almost unreal:
That jump the cow made just before she died —
That was so marvellous! He sat and cried,
Reliving that warm night: the classic meal
The spoon served up, on that dresser of deal,
An ice cream sundae after. Worlds collide.

Try not to mention madness and the wenches,
Or what he lost so many nights ago.
She won’t come, will she? Knowing she doesn’t know,
He waits for her now by the dirty benches.
His concupiscent heart groans, seethes, and clenches,
Love gone, escaped into the morning’s glow.

Sustain Us

Sustain us in thine arms, and let thy hands
Repair what has been broken in our home,
And we will kowtow to the garden gnome
Who smiles sweetly, as if he understands:
He represents you in these unkempt lands
Where prayers rise up into the foggy dome
That is our firmament. The clouds are chrome,
The stars are bulbs, contrails are rubber bands.

An artificial silence, ruling here,
Warns us to tremble, and our fingers drum
Self-consciously, slowly, using the thumb
For counterpoint, beating a pattern clear
And yet irregular, not joy, not fear,
But something else. For something else will come.

In Celebration of Our Athenian Heritage

Our heritage is not a monolith,
But filled with linkages some have been loath
To claim, or to admit to. Are we with,
Or stranded without, history, or both?
“A pleasant seat,” you sang, “this castle hath!”
And I looked darkly to the north and south
Before I asked if we could have a private bath
And you thought I had better shut my mouth.
We’ve had our visits from the Gypsy Moth:
Each word was once a lonely bit of breath,
Each piece of fabric once was a whole cloth,
Each civilization died a featured death.
Phoenicians, Qin, and Arabs underneath,
The Greeks, like Jews and Romans, still have teeth.

How Long We’ll Stay Together

In four days’ time you’ll be returning here,
Claiming the prodigal’s right to a feast,
A groaning board, six courses laid, at least,
To celebrate the ending of this year
Of grief and exile, absences and fear,
The relegation of the clever beast
To his own home, away off in the east
Somewhere beyond our worries. Have a beer.

We’ll all be drinking, spooning out the jam,
Pretending we remember what you know
We don’t remember, putting on a show
For all the neighbours who don’t give a damn.
No more do I. You don’t know who I am.
And then, in five days’ time, I’ll have to go.