Tuesday, January 20, 2009

even i think you're blinded by conceit.


Sounds from the party shear away
into echoes. Feet stop and
take root in the sand.
It’s easy to love you now,
my mind’s stopped changing.

Boats nudge each other
like sleeping lovers
with each slight wave,
doing their slow dance
as lights across the river
melt and gutter out.

When the wind has exhausted itself
in the pre-dawn, I bury the fire, alone,
and I hear another voice gliding,
dipping its wings in the water
on its way to me.

Finishing my wine
I walk into the river,
the sound of bells in my ears,
and make my way to you.

Newcastle, 1993

No comments: