Disposed
She wasn't there at nine, and ten minutes,
later, she still wasn't there. You took her
from my knee, leaving only the scratch of time
and an angel. She wasn't there at nine.
How clumsy - why say water, when we mean
no, and did I say you or we, press on
and don't look back - but why say water -
when you mean, I don't know, and never did.
I saw God, in this, moving the curtains
with shadows and shadows with curtains
until all that bore colour gained rigor
unless with our tapping finger made real.
Somewhere in love lies the call of pity -
perhaps you'll agree, to agree, that body
and water refers to sea - no - not sea
but pity called out by him - somewhere.
I wasn't there at nine, and ten minutes,
later, I still wasn't there. You took her
from my knee, leaving scratches of angel
and bits of time. At nine, I was not there.
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