Past Rhyme

Past rhyme,
Past sorrows’ knell and joy’s disdain,
Only the parched blue breaking,
The vermilion rings of twilight

To eye or heart
On the crest of an oath or cry
For the banished bell and pain

My songs
Sodden and limp –
These sands were not the place
To raise a conch, to rue
A withering, to sink
Into a famished ecstasy

I return
To the refuge of windows,
The comfort of drawers
Half-open, half-closed,
To the landscape of scattered cloth,
To the crusts on a plate – perhaps
There was also a bit of wine
And the mischief of simple jewellery
In our disarray, I muse

And taking care
With my coffee, again
I step outside

Emanuel E. Garcia is a poet. novelist, essayist and physician who now resides in New Zealand. Read other articles by Emanuel E..