She is the lightning rod and he is the storm
Across slate roof sleet to gutter groan
Down drainpipe wall-attached
To where the grass meets the street
Your lawn lakes green the fence defers
To the baited breath of silent neighbours
She breathes a sigh as raindrop falls
To stain the wash on white night walls
You are not drawn from stencil brush nor led by nose to greed
And words won’t waive the sentence yet handed down by need
You are the wave upon my shore and my heart the rocks to greet
sliding sand past warlike crabs patrolling borders fleet
She is the question he is the answer
filtered through the web of branches
through pages torn from days delay
to where they cash their chances
Your weeping eye at best refers
To the baited breath of slighted neighbours
She asks again be still the rain
That stains the wash on white night walls
You are not brushed from stencil drawn nor led by nose to greed
And time won’t salve the sentence yet handed down by need
You are the wave upon my shore and my heart the rocks to greet
Standing firm with warlike crabs patrolling borders fleet
She is the thought he is the sentence
Scratched across parched paper portals
Falling through days and unexpected delays
To the ears of lesser-born mortals
Ears made of corn and crumbling porn
Eavesdropped on by paranoid neighbours
She waters his words with swarming birds
That stain the wash on white stone walls
You are not born from stencils torn nor led by the nose to greed
And your life is compiled from sentences handed down by need
You are the wave upon my shore and my heart the rocks to greet
Facing up to warlike crabs patrolling borders fleet
March 2008
No comments:
Post a Comment