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Donall Dempsey
Poems
Apr 2015
LIGHTLY CHILD LIGHTLY
the wind is reading
Aldous Huxley's ISLAND
dropped among the hollyhocks
the wind speed reads
skips entire sections
a fat fly walks over the title
an obese raindrop falls
upon the author's name then
another & another &. . .
ISLAND
turns to mulch
raindrops batter the book
it comes apart
at his touch
islands of words remain
"...two thirds of all sorrow
is homemade and so far
as the universe is concerned..."
the rest is lost
but he can fulfil the words
". . . unnecessary. . ."
now here at your grave
my fingertips trace
the curves of your name
as a lover might
trace the taut
muscles of a back
a ladybird pauses on
the H of Huxley
as if learning its letters
their metal inlay
glinting in the sun
"...it isn't a matter of forgetting..."
your words scattered
across the years
"...what one has to remember is..."
"...how to remember and yet
be free of
the past..."
I still grieve my lost book
eaten by the weather but
glowing in my mind
I laugh and tell your grave
"Give us this day our
Daily Faith but...
...deliver us
Dear God
from Belief."
Written by
Donall Dempsey
Guildford
(Guildford)
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