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in
collection I heard my lady weepe ,
a
study of English lutenists of the Golden Age,
commissioned by The Tern Press
in 2007,
www.ternpress.co.uk,
and in paperback
from I heard my lady weepe
It is not light or dark that hides me, trapped
in
this loose frame of flesh.
Nobody
looks my way or touches me.
Why
should I grieve at that?
Noli
me tangere, he said, the Christ,
and
the sweet Magdalene drew back her hand.
He
wrote himself in air – a cloud that breaks
in
showers, drop by drop,
his
rain touching your cheek. You thought it was
my
music?
Splashes
of grace falling from storms of – what?
They
say he died for love.
Eleanor Cooke
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last
update:
Enquiry
to
poetry p f
poetry favourites:
The
Tern
Press
and in
the
shop
...
collections
-
"Who Killed
Prees Heath?",
Bristol Classical
Press/SWT;
"A
Kind of Memory",
Seren;
"I
heard my lady weepe",
The Tern Press;
"December",
The Redlake Press
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