Gedicht
Deryn Rees-Jones
After You Died
After You Died
After You Died
The night would not give in to me —or something inside me would not yield.
The great harness of love I was wearing
stiffened in my shoulders, was held like a bit
between my teeth.
Last night
I woke and the moon was there,
her old romance of self-reliance and inconstancy.
And though my children in their turn
woke up to frantic dreams, were held,
brought back to bed,
she was there, her face full with a fierce singing.
And the dark again became a place
of sleep, a wild thing cohabiting.
© 2010, Deryn Rees-Jones
From: Poetry Review: Off the Page
Publisher: Poetry Review, London
From: Poetry Review: Off the Page
Publisher: Poetry Review, London
Gedichten
Gedichten van Deryn Rees-Jones
Close
After You Died
The night would not give in to me —or something inside me would not yield.
The great harness of love I was wearing
stiffened in my shoulders, was held like a bit
between my teeth.
Last night
I woke and the moon was there,
her old romance of self-reliance and inconstancy.
And though my children in their turn
woke up to frantic dreams, were held,
brought back to bed,
she was there, her face full with a fierce singing.
And the dark again became a place
of sleep, a wild thing cohabiting.
From: Poetry Review: Off the Page
After You Died
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