Two Poems

The Belfry

Angelus, said Juniper;

with both hands he milked the sky, and molten
sound came dropping round his ears;

sometimes he would let the rope
lift him off his feet, and then the bell
stammered like an uncertain messenger;

the word 'ghost', thought Juniper, is a better word,
it has the chill and bristle of difference drawn close;

oh only once to surprise an angel!
glimpsed perhaps across an autumn orchard's haze;
tuck up soutane about the waist and wrestle him,
certain to be thrown onto the earth, and cries of joy

would drift along the winds, like feathers.

Diaphanous, said Juniper, that's the word, as he swung
between earth and sky like a ripening berry.

Revolutions of the Heavenly Bodies
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