POEM

 

A Claudian sunset

a punnet of fruits on the windowsill,

a white nag can be discerned

grazing afar along the horizon:

beacons of light in a benighted world.

Undulations of shaded valleys and reveries.

A moon-caressed gnomon

as the phallus of some forgotten god,

god combing the goldfields of memory

where, naked, cavort 

all my past and imaginary loves.

Susurration of willows over the gleaming water,

stentorian voices of rivers that swell in the night,

the night coming down like a wound tiger

who stares, melancholy, the orange gloam of dusk:

beacons of light in a benighted world.

The dreams I didn't dare to make real

have turned into crows.