Alder boughs

On the ground
underneath the swaying alder boughs
two lovers napping
in a field.

I knew a man so poor, he said
who sold his eldest daughter
for a goat
which died on a rope before that Saturday.

A cloud was blown into a fish,
was cut between the green coins
rustling in the breeze;
her hair was red as ivy.

Which so upset the wretched family, he went on,
the goat did, they were no more;
four years old
the sudden prince of his affairs.

He were a Hebrew, taught
in the old manner
to accept the rightness
of Abraham; denying Paul

And said the cloud is not a fish
but is instead a drop of lantern oil
from a slave ship off
the west coast of Byzantium, and a wretch

who was so poor she drowned him five days old,
cut a line across her face to show
some healing had begun
and begged the street with fresh urgency.

That was no drop, no hideous oil
she protested
but a whale from Jonah
a book about faith, and sailing

How the good are tested, driven from the well
where the water, wet and plentiful
turns to mud
before the pail is filled.

I knew a woman, he persisted
who would kill to know
the number that could buy her lace,
enough to hold her tears;
enough time to frame his boyish face
before the lye cut in.

In August, she announced, will be a wedding
at the great house near the harbour
the one with a hickory swing
and rose trellises.

I expect that you should want me on your arm,
to sit beside me during mass
we'll dance and talk
beneath the stars, of Paradise.

In the sky
a red hood worked the field in rings
hare lay low,
the student lay there wagering

Who would not forget
they saw me in a suit?
and threw a rock into the brush
to end his curiosity.

A man, she spoke, slow as winter
hangs inside that cloud
upon a Judas tree!
Whereon replied: I knew a man so desperate poor
he took his son into a church!

They made love for hours then
underneath the swaying alder boughs.



© Jeff Thomas 2009