Old Chair Isis
The
island's lip in river sips,
 Sunlight dances
regal, hair twirling bright
  In our blood, soft warming red
wine.
 These my round
beams are pillows pleased,
  Proud and staid, all longing
pales, gilt-woven shroud
   Animal ease, blissful moment
  Give no groan or creak abandoned:
   Gallant solitude, stillness dignified,
    Let seasons and all comers pass.
   Weather denudes, peels and feathers.
    Sway-backed chair, melancholy emblem cracked,
     Fading and stoic in autumn dusk.
    Giddy spring heat is sorely missed,
     Curling memories flutter, a late breeze.
      Whispers are careful of mourning.
~1993 |
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