APOLOGIA

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Wild weep and wail, and mourning-torn clothes;
Let me sing Kaddish for my dead -- for us,
For all the high lake-gold and water-cold skin!
He was bright enough to burn the sun!
To burn the heart from me,
The long-limbed, sunbrown, wind- and water-blessed
Swift-pleasured smiling fire.

Where has it gone?

Sun mocks, flicks paradoxes acid in my eyes.
Beautiful blue-skied, gilded, light-aired world;
Even at noon the poisons seep into the gutters and the drains,
Heart's ashes sift through gratings,
Feed the shit-rich rats and copse-fat worms;
A pinch of seasoning at an unclean feast.

I have been portioned out and shared around
Those yellow teeth and knives,
All the long worms feasted on my blood
And all the yellow eyes fed on my screams.
My futile screams.

My heart's ashes silt my veins,
Sometimes shaving the blade is poised to cut,
Expecting all the rank and blackshit poison
To exhale and vapour from the open wound.
Dead men don't bleed. It wouldn't work.

And if I'm dead
Am I not wise
Protecting him from necrophilia?
Sing Kaddish for my dead:
For all the bright-skied, honey-mouthed, wind-brisk laughing love
For all our certainties.

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Pamela Freeman
16.1.1984

FRONTISPIECE