Sunday, July 05, 2009
Andy Roddick is my champion.
I promised more poems so here is the fulfilment of that promise. One that has been pretty thoroughly reworked. Thanks to RVW for the first line.
We were twins when she took my arm –
diabolists, naked dancers, a rucking swarm
clambered into sundown-spattered air
and I stared at her, my head stirred –
when I was there to see, to be her first kiss
and she was with me at home every Christmas
and her voice was the earth, so was mine,
and her mouth met the earth that was mine
and on her tongue that was every river
and the puddle we tripped over or nearly over
were the motions of every dance,
every dancer, street light and bar light
and in the shifting light of a new year
her tawny eyes, her Indias of spice, cold silver,
looked down at the feet that were not my feet
then the eyes that were only mine, and yet –
even as each door of our twin cells closed
and the sky paled to eye-blue over the clothes
we had discarded – I settled down in my casing
and simmered to the accent I still have trouble placing.