POEMS FOR DESDEMONA
(1)
whatever it is
of beauty
someone will seize upon it, deny it
turn your philosophy against itself
get your eyes
to deny the truth
they really see
Oh beware those
who do
not measure up
those Iago’s scurrying into openings
to work the death of joy, on life
the darkness of mind’s revenge
only the human predator
masks its fangs with reasonableness
the love of the Other
so much old fear, stuff locked
away in secret
awaiting the protocol of
reasonable disclosure
and that
beauty
broken now
it was a dream, the dream that
is our deepest hope
greatest tragedy
played out on a stage
the drama unforgettable, for
time immemorial
the words engraved
(2)
those words
conjured up for her
a world of mystery, danger,
the love, grace, power
that had carried them
through to her
from strange lands, across
wild oceans
words that had battled, raged
found themselves
supremely victorious
and yet
as if with one magical touch
the wind could soften
to a breeze, those
seas grow
sweet
and calm
those words
those loyal, fierce, strong,
magical words
needed their
place, needed
to be
cherished held
needed the security, validity
of secure harbour
she would
build such a harbour
wall to encircle, hold,
protect
cherish forever
they found
her heart
(3)
what had she heard before
went so deep, caressed her soul?
so strange the world of these words
and yet how she
cherished them at
the heart of her being
could feel the woman
bidding farewell to the girl
stride with him, have his
back in the heat of battle,
hear the clash of metal, feel
the sweat pour
down her skin
these were words
that went beyond listening
needed complete savoring
these wild words
needing taming, caring for
softening
with her
redemptive touch
holding close forever, walled, encircled,
held close
to her heart, every part
(4)
and Desdemona bade him linger
try not to rush
for each word was
Heaven to her, in need
of much savoring
did he not witness
how, as he spoke
the Heavens spoke
the light of the stars, the darkness
of night
swirling into each other
did he not understand
his words’ alchemy?
this she spoke, though her
heart erupting, it was
so hard to speak
(5)
this small square of cloth
has wound its way into our tale
icon of love, but now
in poison dipped
bloodstained already, this thing of thread
whose lineage harkens back to
the birth of the Moon
unraveling, become a rope
from which perjury would have us swing
and those words
where are they now
their magic darkens, now
spirit has soured
no longer the sail
under which our vessel sails
flag flown to
take the sanctity of
safe harbour
absolute metaphor, sign
more fixed than
Holy Rood
your sword
whose point so
pointlessly turned
eschewing
sheath, perfect scabbard
the perfect fit of
flesh our
too deep, too fatal love
assured
had so much to prove
to argue with the beauty
of its argument
against the division of
man and
man
woman and man
against
the shattering of the world
eternal
division;
heart
from soul;
spirit
from mind