saxon suite #6

by David Hay

Vivacious leaves wisp lonely

Over mountain high and regal.

Two stars pierced my eyes and in the blindness of saints

I worshipped with the humble terror the graveyard of each minute

But no longer will I soak my bones in sorrow,

So tantalising it touches the tongue with harmonic grace.

I shall break these egg-shell walls

And touch beauty, hold it like a new-born

In a countryside full of wolves

No more shall lives be written with only

With sorrows-long-limbed touches,

Instead the moon contends with the sun

In early morning

When each bird is a miracle of feathers

And I with grim-tied tongue shall with imaginary step

Walk clean into the centre of the field

Outside the gates of the hospital

And jump without hesitation into the grey of the lake

Mythical, made of tears and see how far down

I can swim into the darks of my heart,

Trailing light with each kick of disturbance.

David Hay has been published in Dreich, Abridged, Acumen, The Honest Ulsterman, The Dawntreader, Versification, The Babel Tower Notice Board, The Stone of Madness Press, Ink, Sweat and Tears, The Fortnightly Review, The Lake, Selcouth Station, GreenInk Poetry, Dodging the Rain, Seventh Quarry and Expat-Press among others. His debut publication is the Brexit-inspired prose-poem Doctor Lazarus published by Alien Buddha Press 2021.