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Ian Caws

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Taro Fair

(Flora Twort: 1893-1985)

During that time, she woke to the horses
Passing under her window and followed
Later, their straw plaited manes. Like faces
In the sky’s crumbling landscape, she noticed
Other things as she put up her easel
At the Taro Fair. But the words which led
Her had been that way before and were first
To leave, though they ran along her fingers,
Quietly counting the syllables. All
She saw was enough; all they gave, disguise.

That was when the conversations ended,
On a hot day in the stares of gypsy
Children, when the lake water responded
As if moved by her brush, when life became
The true miracle and she saw the grey
In the white, the white in the grey. And so
Easy, the horses, moving in a time
Almost forgotten, across her canvas
To another place that retained its eye
And watched the marvel growing in her face.

Page(s) 13

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