DARKENING GREEN
My mind, rarely with me alone,
parts with energy,
the floor boards scuffed
and landing beams just
roosts big enough for pigeons
on leave from fields
darker for their grain.
[19]
WHISPERS
Suppose and this is just supposing,
though it is a supposition of the highest order,
I were to die tomorrow
A roar denoting silence?
At work, if tradition is the dictate,
something eulogistic would find itself being said.
I am more calm.
I perceive their layers more shrilly.
Past the lipservice
and shocked surprise,
whispers, rumours and
the grapevine would bruit
around a different legacy.
And the open bier?
An embrassassment.
What more could be left unsaid?
[20]