HARWOOD, Gwen

Night Thoughts

…..

So fair are you, my bonny lass,

so sick and strange am I,

that I must lie with all your loves

and suck your sweetness dry.

And drink your juices dry, my dear,

and grind your bones to sand,

then I will walk the empty shore

and sift you through my hand.

And sift you through my hand, my dear,

and find you grain by grain,

and build your body bone by bone

and flesh those bones again

with flesh from all your loves, my love,

while tides and seasons stream,

until you wake by candle-light

from your midsummer dream

…..


In The Park

She sits in the park. Her clothes are out of date.

Two children whine and bicker, tug her skirt.

A third draws aimless patterns in the dirt

Someone she loved once passed by – too late

to feign indifference to that casual nod.

“How nice” et cetera. “Time holds great surprises.”

From his neat head unquestionably rises

a small balloon…”but for the grace of God…”

They stand a while in flickering light, rehearsing

the children’s names and birthdays. “It’s so sweet

to hear their chatter, watch them grow and thrive, ”

she says to his departing smile. Then, nursing

the youngest child, sits staring at her feet.

To the wind she says, “They have eaten me alive.”

Dichterliebe

So hungry-sensitive that he

craves day and night the pap of praise,

he'll ease his gripes or fingerpaint

in heartsblood on a public page.

The ordinary world must be

altered to circumvent his rage.

He'll tell, with stylish Angst of course,

the inmost secrets of our bed.

Words are far worse than drugs; there is

no hope of surfeit or remorse.

The world lies wide, and warm. No kiss,

no child, no prayer will keep him here.

I'll wash the floors. He'll watch the stars.

I'll salt his life with common sense.

He'll suck my sap and vigour down

the crude mouth of his private hell.

Visions have no equivalents.

He'll die of drink and candy bars.