Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

1

The rainbow colours of becoming,
A rhythm of moving limbs and exchanged glances —

It is a part of it that the time for that is past,
I speak now of a still life.

A heron takes off as if pulled by strings let down from heaven;
A crow, pulled down more solidly by earth, repeatedly uses his wings.

But it is not that. Allegory is merely pretty.
Does movement suppose a resting place and if

It does can it be borne? It is gone, what was,
The touch the smell the sight are gone and the question

Where are they now is not the same as the question
Will she ever come back to me though the pressure

In both cases is equal and both play their part
In forcing me to this, and in the reticence involved.

2

So much that happened, my dear, is quite unthinkable
And how should I live through it without you.

Those who survive, survive because they survive. Merely.
And that is not it either: we have done more than that.

And more often now it is difficult to live, knowing that.
And how should I address you, when what we have is not to be held by this ?

I think it is impatience drives me on as earth pulls down,
I think it is your absence gives a sweet stillness to it,

And it is memory saying all things must be changed.

3

          Yes, but to get beyond this point?

          I do not speak of accident, forgetfulness, for weakness
          Of this kind is always us and complaint supposes

          No alteration. The point we have reached
          Is not an argument, it is a greeting,

          As gentle and as loving as I can make it
          To you, today, beyond all changing days.