2
Hooded you smoke down a street in Petersburg
Neva a mirror curving out of sight is
tied in viper ringlets knots of bridges
weightless beneath emigrant, phantom blueA second Venice third Rome another dimension
of imitation in solitary, Ego
slips on that treacherous double ice-floe
loves you, loves you not, a-knotted suspension...Ellen, Eleanor, Lenore... the mask
slips too easily down to the tickling scarf
down to the salt-laden local turfthere to garner is the task, gathering in
skycolored photos of a frozen face
Epiphany... or a mournful trace of silver.
Henry Gould | Island Road 3
Contents | Mudlark No. 6