Hoofbeat heartbeat metric in the veins
where is the pulse that drove me on
half-leaping half-lurching from line to line
fetching up against a cluster of consonants
freed by a sudden unasked for rhyme
anger
delight
abstract nouns clothed in time
Remember the miners
Remember the slaughtered Palestinians
Remember Bhopal Remember Halabja
Remember the Kurds spilt out on the hillsides
Remember holding a newborn
the startlingly black
and abundant hair
*
Hoofbeats heartbeats sound in the veins
pound the earth shake the ground
power transmitted through shoulder and haunch
to knees and hands feel the rhythm
never regular not like a metronome
pace adjusts to the grain of the land
joy is still there when we skype the newborns
rage still drones on the borders of consciousness
but where is the beat that drove me on
*
But dying's not it or not death only
age death it's the gods of others
button my lip numb my tongue
secular zealots djinns and angels
nearest and dearest pin me down
pen me in to the middle ground
politeness fudge changing the subject
no more onward just round and round
I will find the most duplicitous metaphor
in deepest disguise in the living night
I will break for the hills with a surge of horsepower
you will hear their galloping as distant thunder
and the earth will rumble beneath your feet.
Kathleen reviews Sonnets to Orpheus by Rainer Maria Rilke, translated by Martyn Crucefix on page 26.