Author Information
To Em
I slowly finish another long day,
But before the nod I meet one more slave,
That comes to me in a disquiet gush,
As if my heart has been left out too much,
In a logic of process that continues to keep,
My eyes on the stolid and solid and neat,
In the wreaking of reason upon my small life,
That prevents me from finishing it all with one slice.
So I let go of my ill and pocket my pill,
And put my ear to the sound of her snoring here still,
Whilst my membraned menace is left to run wild,
And curries the present to envision the child,
That usually only sees a glimpse or a sparkle,
For the first fifteen minutes or when the mind’s sharpened.
But now a beatific sight does emerge,
That does little justice to put into words,
Instead I’ll lie down beside her, in our small bed,
And swim with the vision and not sully her head,
With my utterances of what instead could be;
Place my ears to her breath and another slave free.
©R.H.Elliott 2003
