The Distracted Scholar

THE DISTRACTED SCHOLAR Across the page in gothic script Your clever hand has made a word It gently sits upon my ripped Peace like a singing bird The word is proof you’re in the world - I touch the page, it whispers faintly With your voice, when the questions hurled Against what you said was stone quaintly Dead, when life itself was resurrection - Or rather: You are at the edge of my dream Waving to me like a mood – like the confection Of deeds I uttered as if the lip of seem Were nothing. Why trouble you with this? - you have written on the page your kiss. By Rosemarie Rowley