Saturday, 29 December 2012

The Lamp

Lampshade, like an eccentric's hat,
looks towards stars smiling in a tree top.
Thin brass body like a candlestick,
a back turned against me.
Rain drips from the brim.

The wild wood sways in the darkening air,
black clouds rolling down on a forest floor
where a man in a greatcoat walks in heavy boots.
Thatch of hair under an eccentric hat like a lampshade.
Conical hill rising to a wooden gate. A tombstone
for some local dignitary too important to rest in the churchyard.
Magical silence except for a whispering in the leaves,
the thwacking of a swan running on the green river.

Two people, man and woman, come walking into this place.
Trespassers from the town. A dog on a lead.
The man in the greatcoat watches them. Waits for them to go.
Rain keeps falling. Too dark now to be in this place
far from the wooden cabins with their yellow lights.
The couple are as if they'd never been there.

I turn the lamp, its electricity on.

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