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Saturday, 26 October 2013

Turn Up

I did not expect a reply
The reply I received
Was not to be expected

Three strands of news
Sincerely, or insincerely
Twisted tentatively together

It may take awhile to respond
First a private investigation
Probing deep into memories

The question whether, or
Not I will make a contribution
Is placed on the pending pile

Meanwhile, I smile & ponder
My poet never was read; she 
Didn’t see what Mallarmé said

Of course I checked my inbox
Five times, maybe more
Before her message arrived

It is what we do, blessed
With our recent insecurity
Of not ever really knowing

Not showing our doubts, never
Being found out; heaven is in
The owning & forever disowning

As the afternoon sun
Warms the motorway mist
Why do I insist on recollection

Is it a desire to swerve; avoidance
My place of deception, caught 
Out by her untimely reception


Cut It - Love of Perfumed Grains of Dust
Christopher's Poetry collections can be found on iTunes and on Kindle by clicking the highlighted links