Summer Love
Swallows gather, high above
Where, this morning, mist rose
Steadily, masking my view of the valley.
It was soon gone, this mist
Dispersed by burning sun and a breeze
Carrying honeysuckle scent to where
A bleached window lights
My tenant room.
I had sat quite still
While her words destroyed
My soul.
It was a calm night
Perfumed by moon
Which drew droplets of fractured
Light to my pillow and relief
To the majesty of her flesh.
For hours, the White Tiger's cave
Explored: and when the shared sweat
Dried and sleep with Her tender
Grace filled her limbs
I lay, savouring the sweetness
Of her joy.
For two weeks, a world
Explored.
Was it all a dream?
I remember
The small cafe where she, tired
From wind, hill and sun
Rested her head as only a lover can
On my shoulder: no one cared
When we kissed or ran barefoot
Along the narrow street
And too much wine made us
Each together try to capture
With our hands a star
Jumping jumping until blood seared
Our ears and we fell
Softly, on forgiving grass.
It is silent and still, my room
Where foods rests uneaten and undesired.
There is no foolish laughter
No sweat to dry as sun dries.
There is only
The broken picture of my past
Since all my letters are unanswered
And undesired.
The cool breeze stirs -
Something.
She does not or will not hear.
Her husband claimed her
As the jealous god claims souls:
Dry, without any magick
Or mirth.
Was I her freedom or her guilt?
Soon, the sleeping bats screeking
Will swoop, launched by Dusk
And I will wait, perhaps,
Until Winter brittles memory
And deep frost slows the blood.
But by then, I will be distant footsteps
In the snow
DW Myatt