| Poetry about Poetry ... original or previously published poetry, March 2001 |
"Poetry can only afford to be partly domesticated"
- Sean O'Brien (in an article in the Guardian
on the death of Ted Hughes)
It will condescend to share your home.
Let it in, feed it scraps and warm milk,
give it a lap to curl on.
- It will purr.
Yet it owns no master. It walks by itself
and flies with the watchfulness of crows.
It speckles the weeds in its fins' shadow
and prints fresh snow with its footfalls.
It feels its way through cracks, insidious,
the seedling of oak that grows unnoticed.
It is the cliff behind the cottages that craves
to be climbed. It knows fences as pathways,
yet still it needs the feel of people.
It demands that you stroke its fur.
Let it flex its claws in your comfort.
Let it tease your skin with prickles.
- It may draw blood.