In the Museum

Richard Sanger
From:   Shadow Cabinet. Montreal: Véhicule Press,1996.

Spain, with which you tended to confuse me,
Had mountains, deltas, droughts, a whole history
Of turmoil and delusion; I did not.
The sea may very well smear the latest froth
Of adjectives on our shores, litter the beach
With fetching analogies and figures of speech—
I am a lady, and the looks you called
So ravishing, and so original
Could be had in any village bar
As easily as sin: dark eyes, dark hair,
And a bit of bounce. What more did you ask?
There were, of course, times between us
When the climate coincided with my mood:
I could be warm fronts or like a storm cloud brood
Through the afternoon... The heart has its laws,
Its reasons which reason itself ignores—
Yes, but geological formations, earthquakes,
And the Moorish invasion? Those you can save
To regale your next patch of dirt.
That, and all the boredom of literature.

Poem 1 | Poem 2 | Poem 3 | Poem 4 | Poem 5 | Poem 6

Richard Sanger's works copyright © to the author.