HEART THREAD Parts Eighty-Seven and Eighty-Eight

87.

Roar of the mirror whine of the hedge

ask nothing of me, disturb less than
one word does

noise left and right unending

no more nuisance really than the fish
in the sea

when I sit and look at surf rolling
in

as if I were part of something even
this

Battle of Actium before me surf
creams on shingle

Antony impaled and Cleo’s left breast
toxic-nibbled

and all the lovely stories end at
once

I spent my whole childhood believing

and childhood never manages to end

the waves her pure right breast, and
go weep.

88.

And have nothing to do but this

in the comfy prison of reality

no more work to do but make time pass

change the names of all those wicked
places

salt marsh no hay a bracelet of
Whitby jet

I went there for the sky the wet
horizon

timothy grass belonging from black
mud

weathered narrow boardwalk over muck

a thousand birds and only there ever
alone

and no room left to plant the lettuce

barely room for dancing with
Valkyries

high above the north sky where once a
city is.

ROBERT
KELLY