After the Abandoned Sun
I.
Eyes staring into the infamous clouds
pass on mirroring the blue
close with the sun
centre of the burning sky
whorl and vortex hung
what is forming there?
See an eye.
Formless waves and foam
of fire have kindled
to such point
past burning, they do not remember before.
Then the heat turns inward,
begins in diminishing roar.
The sun’s face has gone behind the clouds,
within the nether circle dies.
What do we hear behind the high hills?
II.
Trees floating down river,
a stone overturned.
Out on the beach the surf
climbs expiring on the sand.
One gull crazily tilting
flew along the white line
of sea that strove and fell
upon the shoulders of the land.
In the city I heard no sound but
scuttle of worms around the corner,
in the square a torn child.
Myself myself
sing song way
walking on the way to school
with books in my hand.
I was too old for play.
My mother
was waiting for me.
The oven was hot.
I would fling my coat
above the chair where grandfather sat rocking.
The snow came down outside
O endless long
myself talking
caribou bones…
white bones on white sun…
There were always the flowers
opening and folding
you have heard talk of it.
When the teacher stopped
before my desk there was a sharp look on her face
what did you do
I
III.
The house rattled and trembled as if
pulled along with the carriage
that scattered along the quay,
bang bang on the door.
Mother. Mother! Mo o o o
bang.
The whole town was there to see.
IV.
And when the worm had had its fill
it went out by the east gate.
An old man hobbled down the lane
with grease in his hand.
V.
And the sun set.
And he stood against the sheltered wall
and looked over the plain.
No, it was most still.
Not even the caw-caws sang
only the willful movement
of blood along the vein.
And the wheels rang out on the wet pavement.