Lay for the Day 12th
The Roman festival of the goddess Diana.
Short as ever of time,
two meet in hourless gardens.
The colour of her sleeve subjugates
the colour of her hem and the blackbirds beak
scissoring airs to strand them on the lawn.
In art, she says,
“theres plenty and enough
of mess, disguised as decoration,
an emptiness that blackbirds never known.
Dont trouble your
fingers with the frets
unless each string can strike a dart into my breast,
for I am Queen also of the hunt.
Her cheetahs on silk leashes
give his ragging hands no room to fail.
Lay Reader: an archive of the poetic calendar