To rest


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Fine and mirthful as he was

To rest I laid him, in the grass

That grew always brightest

And farthest from me

In lathes of cobalt

The clouds fell and he subsided

Pinioned dreams and reproaches

Darkening dark eyes

Of a kind, and all too easy were we

Though I was scarce as solid

As a passing fog, allowing the invention

Of wings and grace and gentle nimbus

Truly, I was never so good withal

And every joy furnished gems of shame

Bedecking the grass that grew

Brightest and farthest from me

 

Eyeful of stars


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Lost in the sheets yet never finding the bed

That night no poetry came home to rest

No contentment but daydreams banishing sleep

Of a dance in the dark and a touch on the cheek

This false-beating heart will twist her awake

While yearnings prick sweeter than honour or faith

An eyeful of stars to corner her dreams

Her innermost faults become her innermost seams

 

 

 

Of flowers past


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Where light my darling coming

Through the white Queen’s lace and fetters

Of summer tendrils yellowing

I see her love of shoot and sprig

Of loosestrife even as asters

Her mouth a bow of girlish charm

Her hands everywhere trailing

So she was six summers past

And so now I briefly see her

Better cast in my adoration

Than all the sun’s rayed splendour

~

Elizabeth Cook, 2017

Image from Karen Margulis

The DeWhitts


Mrs. DeWhitt was a bit too unerring in her instincts for her own good. Somehow, whether by the curling of her toes or a pinch in her right shoulder, she knew when Mr. DeWhitt was inappropriately occupied with the nth chamber maid, the girl-who-came-only-on-Wednesdays, the innkeep’s daughter, or any other bit of female miscellany under the age of thirty.

During these times (which constituted most of the time) Mr. DeWhitt would often be puzzled to find his dinner late, cold, or absent; his gloves, or cuff links, or rifle missing; his galoshes continually, inexplicably muddied; and his best scotch disappearing faster than he could rightly account for.

Unfortunately for the marriage, Mrs. DeWhitt exercised her powers in so natural and unconscious a manner, and Mr. DeWhitt was so far from thinking these mishaps anything but coincidence, that the gentleman never realized that he was receiving his just desserts, and the lady was never content.