Sunday, December 28, 2014

Noticing TS Eliot in passing


The philosopher Eliot wondered if he dared
At an age when I chose to join the Marines,   
Neither the subject of modern poetry
One would think perhaps but decisively
Present in the hand that brandished the pen
Regardless of the consequences.
Perhaps it’s a matter of muscled

Stamina or the withheld strength
Of his mother.  Mine though strong
Enough for my brother hadn’t power
Enough for the reins or if she did
I never noticed behaving as though
I could choose my own course within
Limitations I didn’t always see.

And now not seventeen but eighty
I’ve no wish to eat a peach
Or wear my trousers rolled
Seeing instead a red sky
From my window and rushing
To make Susan breakfast
Before the day is fully upon her.

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