Saturday, September 24, 2011

A Tribute

Nouns are deserting her.

Last week we had a long

conversation about “clutter”,

a catch-all phrase;

we agreed clutter needed

to be reduced, set in order.

I didn't know whether to call in

a gardener, housekeeper, doctor or priest.

There are other nouns;

but mostly it's a code I cannot break.

Would you expect the bonanza

of the royal wedding to become

the folks up north”?

I try to think myself into her mind

but without success.

Does she recognise me?

Does she see clearly a world

she can no longer describe?

She is left, a solitary survivor,

struggling to hold on to

the remnants of a language

only she can remember.

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