The Crowkeeper
By Paul Cameron Brown
"She gallops night by night through lovers' brains...."
I see grindstones in the sky,
pots of tulips overturned
- big tug of the reins
and chestnut hair
is seen before the windowpane
with chance & more chance lost to
frost or hungry bees
this still autumn eve.
Darling,
walls that division us
are envelopes of passion
bridging trust, seal it
lest it rust.
Skeletal scrapings
make for poor bedding
(this poor rhinoceros of lies)
the devil gliding about so disguised
on his tentacle and toenail chair
(inviting lair) or is it
hiccup and bandaged prayer
yet stalwart wall is a rosary bead
thick ale and bread to hungry snail
or, better, lips to Romeo's blushing pilgrims.
Then, sudden, I'm old -
on a bench counting stars
where each is a radiant patch of energy
leased to the dark,
an emblem burst mailed from eternity,
spark to cigaret's flame
to burn these little suns
as cupid tails; your "bright eye, scarlet lip,
fine foot, straight leg
and quivering thigh."