1 Julian comes to East Harling
The sun neon red lost to the horizon,
the world’s rim stained red with it,
the air chill after the city.
(And why did I never live
in that remote farmhouse
with my thoughts and the four winds,
The radio is my familiar
the news, Stravinsky, Pergolesi:
the dawn hides behind my hand.
Or across the border in Canada
or Oregon in a tepee
anonymous, careless and profligate?)
But I will breakfast with Caroline
and write to several charities,
and throw myself on the mercy of the court,
Scant of breath and defying augury
2 Square Dreams
“Judith;” I said “This is for children.
Create me a Chair in Ontology,
Catastrophe and the Human Psyche.”
So she murmured in the Dean’s ear;
the alumni had a whip round:
I own a Porsche and service graduate students.
Yet despite appearances
I am little the wiser.
3 Madonna
Distracted, she dandled a Putti
who put out his tongue and a large member,
hot-bricked, lay on the floor laughing:
woke in a muck-sweat, trembling,
smelling the pit. Prayer
was mother: Hush, all is well.
And all is well, she thought,
packing her few belongings, remembering
the narrow bed, the small high window.