Catherine Simmonds
Pewter
“you kiss a beautiful mouth
and a key turns in the lock of your fear.”
Rumi
Morning
that metal
rung out,
struck.
This
already,
have we never slept?
Days ago,
the garden,
the wooden chair,
that gaze of yours
which turns skywards suddenly
like you are waiting for something from there,
which is late,
or rain
like you are laughing upwards.
And all at once summer
beginning and end,
the veins of the leaves above you
spread
to a hand.
I know, then
something will fall
is gone before -
you speak
lead
recast,
pewter,
harder.
Page(s) 155
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