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published
in collection In the Affirmative, 2008,
Redbeck Press,
ISBN 978-1-904338-40-6
Mortal Instruments
Saw
you first at Mass in Notre Dame
through
blue plainsong and waves of incense
the
Rose Window unravelling atheism
the
drunk priest tripping on the steps.
Spied
you before lunch in the Marais
shadowing
that woman behind a plane tree
one
eye open, the other obscure brown
caught
between compassion and contempt.
In
the museum you hop-scotched frets
and
fractured fingerboard, then disappeared
like
thin oils into the thirsty grain
and
I wondered where you’d surface next
but
never expected to find you spread
across
a canvas of blood, huge bathers
hugging
you to distended limbs
and
extending you enormous elbows.
Everyone,
of course, gave you refuge
moved
over, made room for you to hide
left
me looking at the women wanting
to
be looked at, under the bronze pram.
Very
soon I’ll come over to your side
my
legs setting solid on the plinth
my
shoulders growing marble wings
my
mouth happily forgetting words.
Michael Curtis
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