Lunchtime lecture Flashcards
A white…
fine skull, full up with darkness As a shell with sea, drowned in the centuries.
Small, perfect
The cranium would fit the palm of a man’s hand.
Some plague…
or violence Destroyed her, and her whiteness lay safe in a shroud of silence
(Till a tractor in Summer) broke
open the grave and let a crowd of light Stare in at her, and she stared quietly back
Here in the
Museum, like death in hospital
Left, only
her bone// Purity the light and shade beauty
the perfect edge
Where the pieces join, with no mistake
She is a
tree in winter, stripped white on a black sky
I, at some
other season, illustrate the tree
We stare at
each other, dark into sightless Dark, seeing only ourselves in the black pools…