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Literature Text
and when you tire of the dust
when you tire of the library
when at last you touch the dogeared page,
you will still sight me at the helm -
scattering vowels like bait on the waves
a fleck on the radar.
you will wave from the shore, probably -
nudging ochre sand, the Atlantic
a finger on her spine.
but when you tire of the sun
when you tire of the sea
when at last you settle on your shelf,
think of me in your old jacket
and of the plate that always began
this book belongs to
when you tire of the library
when at last you touch the dogeared page,
you will still sight me at the helm -
scattering vowels like bait on the waves
a fleck on the radar.
you will wave from the shore, probably -
nudging ochre sand, the Atlantic
a finger on her spine.
but when you tire of the sun
when you tire of the sea
when at last you settle on your shelf,
think of me in your old jacket
and of the plate that always began
this book belongs to
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28 may 2011
and this, as always, is a double entendre
and this, as always, is a double entendre
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Comments1
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If it were anything else, I would be disappointed.