À Une Femme Africaine|
Desire kindled by impossibility,
My hearts grown a chart of its own exile,
Border-posts on fire, meridians awry.
Distant four thousand and salt blue miles
Again I see her treading sunwhite sand,
Igniting my everyday with night;
The cold north sky beneath which I write
Is rolled back like so much old carpet,
Ocean and desert packed within a sigh
Lithe souvenir! Sinuous spectre!
Out of a blaze of loneliness I sing her
Though absence dupes, distances disguise.
Martin Bennett | Mudlark No. 12
Contents | Dialectic: Staffroom 3