ALEX BARR

 

Billet-Doux

 

Clasp us, Celestial Death,

to your starry breast, to which we must retrace

our weary steps and be annihilated,

said Monsieur Leconte de Lisle, who got your number

didn’t he, oh yes, knowing you’ve had so many.

 

When will you turn to me, peel off

that gorgeous starry dress

whisper, ‘Come!’ and ease me

into your secret dark,

Mademoiselle la Mort?

 

All Souls Day

 

I strain with unsteady

imaginary tread

up the stone steps

the thirty-seven steps

up from the cathedral

hiding in its hollow

up from the cathedral

you knew so well.

Slow, slow, breathless

(listen!) I climb those steps

those thirty-seven steps

between banks of grass

set with fallen headstones

towards the gateway

in the ancient wall.

The rooks are strangely silent

the wind at rest.

In the gateway

framed by darkness—

you.

I see you beckon

or maybe simply wait

long plait over your shoulder, with

that gentle quizzing look

and ghost of a smile.

Drawn as if by music

lighted windows

the scent of incense

I strain with unsteady

imaginary tread

up the stone steps

the thirty-seven steps

up from the cathedral

towards where you stand

framed by dark

towards the moment

when you will take my arm and lead me through.

 

 

Another Spring

 

I find in the car we gave you

the glasses with cherry rims

you wore when you passed your test

and I think of your eyes whose green

gaze I could never hold.

 

Daffodils flash their yellow

heralding your birthday.

What brings the bulbs to life?

The sun’s touch on the soil?

The percolating showers?

 

Nothing restores your eyes,

too deep for the rain of tears,

too deep for the heat of anger

that the gift of life we gave you

one Easter was unwanted.

 

ALEX BARR

 

ALEX BARR: Alex Barr’s recent poetry is in Poetry Review (the leading UK poetry magazine), The MacGuffin, The Dark Horse, and Orbis. His poetry collections are ‘Letting in the Carnival’ from Peterloo and ‘Henry’s Bridge’ from Starborn. He lives in Wales.