Pandora's Boxing-glove
I never tire of asking
Still less of your reply:
But when the sharks are basking
We catch each other's eye
And question one the other
As if truth weren't the mother ...
What lies our smiles are masking
No doctor dares deny!
I try to guess your meaning
With yarrow-stalks, with runes
With rituals demeaning
The silence of my tunes
I never could discover
My litmus-paper lover
Without the sound of keening
Or clattering of spoons
I must continue seeking
Though dusk may supervene
And stop the woeful leaking
That dehydrates my spleen
Beneath this manhole cover
Where lurks the Greenwich Glover
His grimy gauntlets reeking
Of foods unclean
And, in the ever-after
There will be no laughter
| Contributors: | TG, Roland, P. |
| Poem finished: | 25th November 1998. |