Monday, January 02, 2006

To Dylan Thomas

'in the gathering darkness,
at the turning of the tide'

Your gentle sea turned up fish eyes
and sucked in a dry wind,
but mine has burned itself to death
in a vacuum of sage and serpents.

The paper skeletons of seahorses and spiny fish
rise and fret the sky with a bone lacework
as dead men writhe in Davey Jones'.

All my lovely locks of coral
open crusty apertures and vomit
ash on a waterless shore.

My hands are wire, lit to a phosphorous
deep-ocean extravaganza, as they expire.
My sea is a fire, reproduction white,
where monsters incinerate innovative bubbles.

Our misunderstood creations are stillborn.
Replicas of flame, lit with half
a borrowed match.


Pris said...

Applauding wildly! Great job, Rae!

Rae Pater said...

Thanks Pris. I read yours this morning too. Looks like it's gonna be another winner.

Michelle e o said...

Lovely Rae. I'm working on one not nearly as eloquent. Great response.

Rae Pater said...

Thanks Michelle. I look forward to reading yours.

nancy said...

I love the imagery here, Rae - paper skeletons, spiny fish, locks of coral, and stillborn creations. Fits the tone well, but then, you always seem to "fit the tone well" :)


Rae Pater said...

Thanks Nancy