At Blue Bridge

FOR M.G.

At Blue Bridge the locks juddering with rain
loop the mind; so thinking
puts in my place an artist of pain
-staking stillness: Breton, minor, with works

uncelebrated but sold; how he collects
complexities of hurried light
and torcs, silver tongues
hurled, comprehends their inner sleight,

intensive motion. He moves
like a waterlogged stump loving
his station, meticulously proves
the static–transitory meaning of moving.



Hunted Deer
ROSALIE DE MERIC (1954)

Mystique of keratin
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