Holy of the Trinity, on Her Birth

Here they lie and stay, lying, telling us all tales are false.

It is locked, beyond them, and I

Slip

And in slipping find my way barred. I bore the way for you.
Pity that I found it barred to me.

Forward, then.
Forward and, in moving forward, an apology
I wander now in strange places
I wander and cannot afford your presence.

Seducing in its sarcasm
Sultry in its sardonic sutures
Self-indulgence made seraphic
Spoken sounds and the sound of singing you
Recreates me now,
A slavish, sibilant snake

This is overdone
This is not done
I leap across the gate

Across, beyond, below and through
And whispering (a secret, a secret!)

I do not belong here.

I do not belong but I walk and in walking I
Lose
Myself and it is a grateful loss in which I am
Sure
That I will like what I find once I find it but until then I
Walk.

Walk until walking loses all meaning
Walk and find I could walk forever.
I have not found myself
I have not even, poor poet that I am,
Found you.

I was looking.
Believe me.
I was looking.

Then!
The sudden fear that looking would bring no solace
The fear that in finding myself I would find nothing
Nothing of import, anyhow

Did you know this?
Did you find this truth and flee it even as you fled yourself?
Are we manifested in our absence?

Fear emboldens me
I cut across the lawn
Not my lawn and not my grass
I invite the owner to kiss my…well, it is crude, but as I said
Fear
Made me bold.

I leave that field.
I will find you elsewhere.

Suburbia now.
Homes empty save for mothers-stay-at-home
A dying, yes, a dying
Breed.

This, you say, is for the best.
No children haunt these streets
God, we like to be kept.

Passing a blue car with blue men in blue shirts
Smacking
At a blue sky
Passing them I am

Not.

I am not and in being nothing
I am becoming

Something

Something I don’t know
And nor do they, these too-blue men
Who eye me, wondering why-

-I am the wrong shade of blue.

The wrong shade and fading
Fading and in fading
Finding I am gone

Just in time,
For there is a GARDEN

I am vanished before it.
Humbled, amazed
Made small.

I would give you this garden.

I would steal the stones and snatch the petals
Pilfer the foliage and lay these at your feet
Like pearls.

But this would be a mockery
A mockery unto you as my hands were not the hands that wrought these joys
My hands
That are not my hands

The graveyard, the church, the field, the neighbourhood and now
This
The garden.

Oh God, the garden.

Pity that I travel so far and suffer so much to find nothing
Nothing
That is of you and for you, alone.
Nothing that I would not taint

The garden is vast and deep and even
You
Who disdain the Sun and find it sordid
Would love this garden
For the shade is a living Shade
And lying on its dark jade bosom would bring you a sort of peace
It is too much for me

Too much!

Too much meaning and too much beauty
Too far away and too apart
I am made lonely
I am alone.

Too bad, I know, because it was the perfect

Perfect gift for you

I’d give it to you
But my heart would break
And in breaking, die another, another, another…

I will be immodest and think that you’d not wish my final
Death.

But it’s okay
The Garden ends

Ends and opens
Onto a narrow, familiar street
Green grass mottled jaundice yellow
And cars parked every which
Wrong way

Just enough beauty for me to bear

Too much beauty bleaches, blinds
Destroys
We can only see the pieces and in pieces find our peace

You know this all too well
You who are the maker made of pieces
Sheltering us from the whole of you

My flaw was in trying to see you in one try
You are facets
You are more

I will take pieces, instead
The purple, pilfered flower
(It is your eyelids/they are your eyes)
The sparrow song
(Laughter, your laughter)
The gravel ‘neath my feet
(Imitations Intimations? Friendship unsullied)
The breeze and the heat
(Words and scathing and humorous and-)
England and the summer
(Disappointing and Grand)

You; the English summer
(Disapproving and Great)

I should’ve made a cake.