The Distracted Scholar
THE DISTRACTED SCHOLAR
Across the page in gothic script
Your clever hand has made a word
It gently sits upon my ripped
Peace like a singing bird
The word is proof you’re in the world -
I touch the page, it whispers faintly
With your voice, when the questions hurled
Against what you said was stone quaintly
Dead, when life itself was resurrection -
Or rather: You are at the edge of my dream
Waving to me like a mood – like the confection
Of deeds I uttered as if the lip of seem
Were nothing. Why trouble you with this?
- you have written on the page your kiss.
By Rosemarie Rowley
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