When My Heart Is Weighed



When my heart is weighed against a feather
I know the memory of all I’ve written will lighten it
And the memory of the boy who leaves the bakery smelling the loaf through the paper bag
The memory of Noah, who begged me to write poetry on the walls of his ark
He paid me too much for my words
There was no money left for the boat’s headlights
Yet the sailors had cigarettes and dreams of soft skin
Am memory of
Saul ripping at Samuel’s cloak and Samuel becoming naked
‘The kingdom, you have lost’ he said ‘but me you shall have’.
Memories of sore soldiers and blessed swords
The memories of the last of the marble statues- the plaster of Paris’s design is now in vogue
And the time I asked the the sun ‘How do I become a hero?’
‘Who must I offend/defend/make love to?
What offerings on what isle must I make’
The grandfather of me, he was the last of the Lotus eaters
He knew the secret of man and dream
The earth she ate him
Death has no time for the past written up in books
Men! I have seen them, and even now I watch them still
They walk past a pane of glass big enough for a man and two asses to walk through
And they face the wind that is meant to assist
But they furrow their brows and bury their hands deep
Nudging the jewels that linger on my mind in my warmth
Atlas has made a fortune through his literary agent and publisher
While I write words to a population of mollusks clinging tightly to the hull of a boat that no one is game to steer
Maybe this boat will burn
And crash into the only library that contains my words
The Ark of Noah
These memories and thoughts they shall lift my heart
And the feather will fall

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