Then Beggars Would Ride
And it occurred to me then as a pint glass occurs to the side of the head
That I wasn't ragged back in on gritty, shelled shores from foaming riptide
Like I said I would be
And whilst I was missing in stasis, that silent solvent stasis
I had to make myself make a silent wish
A silent cobalt wish that would withstand the salt and erosion
And would outgrow the foliage and not wither amongst it
And I wished
X
That
My daughters
Would be a flurry of
Hair
And glinting steel sickles
And glistening fangs of ivory
X
True ivory
And humour and drollery
And both spittle and fury — interchangeable
And levity that would dislodge rocks and smooth out the ravines
And when that
X
Is done
When that state is achieved
Then, only then, will I —
— Like a candle with a fault
Combust and consume myself
And for just a most insignificant flutter
X
Become a Falcion of white flame
And to splinter, then
Into a million
And, as those million, to be a single almanac
And guide towards warmer climes
Where the laughter and clinking of bottles and baying of dogs are
Truly all empty — but nearer the truth for it