You said : Why can’t i have my Day


 
       You said : Why can’t i have my Day
 
                          a cherished paper-cutting
                                                                    for
those who forgot to care
                                    and for you
                                                     too late
    a cribbed account
         in pale bold face
               on some crowded backpage
     which lapped up the soya stains on the takeaway counter
 
     some faded picture of you
          crammed in nubile twists of fronting elegance
                 in meagre-columned glossy pages
 
you said : why can’t i have my day
      why should a destitute Greek prince
                                       lord it over the world
just by tying a knot with his regal cousin
 
     your eyes recognising too late
        a world you may never see again
a world you may not be seen in again
 
           all your self-suffocating words
            and all those poured in contempt
                                                            on you
                                                                     through you
                                                           for you
    to feed those who grudged your fleeting glory
 
Now  now that all may be forgotten
                  now that no bile inhabits this carcass
 
    over some too pulpy a fruit
            a taste of you
                               from freshly-turned earth
               bloody juicy earth
        our teeth caught
                  clinging to your bleeding shredded flesh
 
    of cells into cells
         of us into our selves
 
 
 

© T.Wignesan, Paris, 1987 (from the collection : Poems Omega-Plus : a less than obvious sequence, 2005)
 
 

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