Postscript To a Passion

POSTSCRIPT TO A PASSION I was hoping you would prove me wrong - Under the ship’s sides the barnacles still cling - I would have thought you’d never sell our song But true to typecast, summer mothering - You, too, proved to be full of guile To love meant having, which ever was the worst - In the quiet of my trust, so deep, so fragile I live down the purple passage of remorse. I’d sing you happy but you were buffoon To my trammelled wanderings a parody Set stiff in coupled rhymes to swoon With the ecstatic rhetoric of equality - So passion plundered, what’s left is my disgrace My jewelled head tortured in your embrace. FROM IN MEMORY OF HER, 2004, 2008