Tuesday 26 March 2013

The King

The poem's not as bad as I recall it being. It has some quotable lines -

Green ages into blood that boils to the treetops,
dries and falls. The strewn grounds become a counting house
where he plucks a flower that was once a pattern
on her carpet

and contains several attempts to preserve the past, however imperfectly. Map-makers have tried several ways to represent the globe on a flat surface -

trying to preserve the angles, the shortest distances,
the areas, but he can't have them all or even any 2

and a hummingbird can only stay still by flapping its wings so fast that they disappear, like his memories of her.

as ghosts aren't seen in mirrors nor was she in dreams
and his heart became a sucking hummingbird,
wings sacrificed for stillness.

The photo's from Leicester.

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