JH (6 September,1962 / Sydney, Australia)

Epilogue - This Is Not A Leather Jacket

This contrite conundrum
is a leather jacket:
a tough, rough, solid
protective coating
blackened by thoughts alone.
It is Sewen, they say, with care
using threads of convexed regret
and lined with egregious humility.
The beast from whose inanimate
carcass the hide
comes is oblate hope.
The tailor, I am told, was obtested trust.
Its use,
(as the egg would say)
in inpenetrability
or a coriaceous protection from coquettish glory.
Can the shell be broken
as it falls off the wall?
And, if so,
what use has a broken egg?

(25 January,1991)

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