ALCOOLS

I poison doux et chaste

The true griefs are eager as mink

and nothing consoles them,

no catalogue of mothering or sails,

no time and tide, no token of repentance.

Out in the yard,

at the near edge of mudslick and rain,

your skin wastes away

in its birdcage of milksop and rubble,

that stain where the mouth should be

like unravelled yarn,

a cri de coeur, a toast,

a false confession,

your life as a hymn tune,

strung out on fishhooks, like worms.

 
 

II noble et tragique

It’s never the tragic and noble

you like to imagine,

this minor key of having been bereft

for years, before you chance upon a field

of mud and thistles in the summer rain

and see it clear: the weather of a heart

so commonplace, you think it must belong

to someone else.

There’s nothing sweet and chaste: the actual poison

spreading in your blood is just a mix

of chalk and sugar, grains of powder-blue

and rose-red, while the life that was to come

is something on the wind, until the wind

decays along a wire of thorns and gravel.

 
 

III Passons passons puisque tout passe

I found a goldfinch

injured in the grass

and carried it into the house

for a moment’s shelter.

It didn’t live

and that was no surprise

but even as it faded

from the light

I felt its mercy,

something only half-

imagined, and more gift

than I can say,

grace being such a thing

as I find small

too readily, distracted from the light

of what there is

by what I thought

I wanted.

 
 

IV le bruit parmi le vent

They say there are children, still,

in the furthest meadows.

In hollows of chalk and moon

they make their beds

from Lady’s-smock

and strands of Old Man’s Beard;

like pilgrims turned away

from blessèd knucklebones

or locks of hair,

they have that look

of having come too far

to be forgiven.

Beguiled by their vita nuova,

I love them well

and bait my snares for them

on warm nights, when the wind is like a veil

between the apple orchard

and the field;

and they have come

to love me well enough

to stay clear of my traps

till morning,

when I go out at first light

and gather up the shadows they have left

like hints of pike

and wolfskin in the grass,

wisps of the new life

snagged between trigger and spear.