The Queen of All Our Yesterdays
A violent scent like lilies atomising
Slithers in the rigours of the wake,
And snowdrops bright and white beyond the windows
Bow their heads as stems prepare to break.
There’s a cat that yowls like cancer in the marrow
And a swan that chokes asthmatic in the reeds,
From the bedroom overlooking all the pond life
A light of savage crimson softly bleeds.
Like the queen of all our yesterdays exhuming
She plays with flesh and bone, death and desire,
The ******** of his manhood burnt and shrivelled
By her laughter born of ridicule and fire.
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