10 March 2006



          We Were Talking Poetry at a Coffee Café

          And then you took out this poem
          You’d lately written. Work in progress, you said.
          But even as I ran my eyes over its skeleton
          I felt the bright red pain of it, the sense of loss
          Of which it tried to speak.

          This half-shadow lurking in your eyes,
          Like a memory. How much of this was truth,
          How much only fiction? I did not ask the question.
          I feared the answer would be a wound too deep
          For me to even try to help you heal.

          So we discussed the technicals only. The choice
          Of a word, the colour of a metaphor. Where to break
          A line. Sipping bitter expressos, testing resonances,
          We rearranged the bones of your language,
          Studiously avoided its weeping flesh.
posted by Gilbert at Friday, March 10, 2006

4 Comments:

Blogger Bluesky_Liz said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

January 31, 2006  
Blogger sigmund fraud said...

This is a very moving poem. I am deeply touched by it.

March 12, 2006  
Blogger the cloned corpse of marcus tal said...

Another subtle and stimulating poem. Thank You.

Kind Regards

March 12, 2006  
Blogger Medusa aka expiringpoet said...

Hi gilbert,
I'm a fan. Have been checking yr site daily since i had the good luck of finding it :)
This one in particular is my favourite - i keep coming back to read it over and again, the sense of pathos is strong, its really moving. Very spectacular, thanks for sharing :)

April 16, 2006  

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