BEE-LINE

Tags

poem, poetry, Universe

BEE-LINE
“… but just Ourselves
And Immortality.”

I thought I saw a bee
flying
to infinity
and in a race
with Ms Emily

who was in a horse-
drawn carriage or
perhaps Europa-
style on the
back of
a bull
or

between the operatic
gull-wings
of a Italian
devil,
an insane
Diabolo
of internal-
combustion power

and yet,
classic Achilles and
Tortoise, could
either
ever win

so much in this
true tableau
we
cannot tell,
must wait
and see

the picture shifting
this way
and that

so much in this
physics not
mass times
acceleration
times
what-what
(measured against
time which
we

now know
is not real

so much in the physics of
life

and of
this page

down to
conjecture, much uncertainty.

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CLOSURE

Emily I am
your illegitimate
son

I wandered in
whilst you
were closing the windows

attracted by the buzz
of life, the white
intensity of your cotton dress
needing some
of that heat for

arc welding
these images

did you not
see my picture, when —
hey presto — abracadabra
it fell
down from amongst
those cake recipes
stuffed on
the very top shelf

so you and
I united, bonded
connected
in that
we both took
a tumble, have
the same snake-sinuous DNA

as we sign-
language to each other
across the stillness, you
wonder at my
white skin
that absorbs rather
than reflects breaking
the laws of
physics, whose
sexual mentality is
all a
swirl

and here we are
and nothing yet you
have found to interpose us

the front room
and the boudoir if boudoir
there be
so in tune to
your slant rhyme, everything
forsaking closure.