LOVE
I hadn't met his kind before.
His misericord face - really
like a joke on his father - blurred
as if from years of polish;
his hands like curled dry leaves;
the prolifigate heat he gave
out, gave out, his shallow,
careful breaths: I thought
his filaments would blow,
I thought he was an emporer,
dying on silk cushions.
I didn't know how to keep
him wrapped, I didn't know
how to give him suck, I had
no idea about him. At night
I tried to remember the feel
of his head on my neck, the skull
small as a cats, the soft spot
hot as a smelted coin,
and the hair, the down, fine
as the innermost, vellum layer
of some rare snow creature's
aureole of fur, if you could meet
such a beast, if you could
get so near. I started there.
Kate Clanchy
I hadn't met his kind before.
His misericord face - really
like a joke on his father - blurred
as if from years of polish;
his hands like curled dry leaves;
the prolifigate heat he gave
out, gave out, his shallow,
careful breaths: I thought
his filaments would blow,
I thought he was an emporer,
dying on silk cushions.
I didn't know how to keep
him wrapped, I didn't know
how to give him suck, I had
no idea about him. At night
I tried to remember the feel
of his head on my neck, the skull
small as a cats, the soft spot
hot as a smelted coin,
and the hair, the down, fine
as the innermost, vellum layer
of some rare snow creature's
aureole of fur, if you could meet
such a beast, if you could
get so near. I started there.
Kate Clanchy
(Sonya, you have inspired me with these lovely words to take out a new poetry book every time we visit the library, I have been leaving them in the loo because that's the only time I have to myself - poo and culture, ah a mother's life! Love you x)
