From the Archives: Desmond

I think I must have written this poem some time in the early 1990s. I have absolutely no idea what it’s about but I really like the concluding couplet, for some reason (and in fact I think I’ve even re-used it in other poems over the years as well).

 
desmond rejects the setting out of arguments 
he is neither analytical or lateral 
he dips his hand into a pool of water 
& it is cold 
 
just a moment ago it was dry 
it was also in my pocket 
my button remains there 
my belt keeps my trousers up 

desmond's house falls on him 
blue-green drops
 
there’s the sound at last 
of bombers falling in the grass 
will they ever retrieve the sky?
he kills a mosquito & stares at himself 
 
there is no need to be concerned 
a wheel churns in the gravel 
& disrupts somebody’s feet 
screwing neatly into the sky 
 
desmond follows all of this eagerly 
desmond forgets the earth 

the ivy wastes hold yesterday’s rain 
& crawl like a bereaved remainder


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