Poem Hunter
Where God Paints The Scenery
(15/07/56 / Curragh Camp, Co. Kildare, Eire.)

Where God Paints The Scenery

I return
from fishing
feeling guilty
of the fish in the pail

still alive and kicking
not realising it's his prison
& he is to be turned
into dinner

(the freshest fish of all)
to find you've fallen
asleep by a dying fire

I gather its embers together
& with my breath
breathe life back into it

until it cackles & flares
its flickering dancing
across your still sleeping face
the fire greedily devours
a feast of twings

that only makes it hungry for more!
Grasses tickle
your nose

some tiny bug
crawls across your shoulder
as if you were only
a landscape it labours over
and not my angel lost in sleep.
I cut & gut
the fish

(a guilty Budhist)
& serve it up
on a large leaf
tasty & delicious
just for you

to wake & savour
a fish fit for
a dreamer.

User Rating: 4,6 / 5 ( 4 votes ) 3

Comments (3)

to breathe new life into the embers and make them spark and crackle...I could warm my hands on this lovely poem of yours.....any chance of some fish for Ruthie? Well it is supper time heheh
From the world to the one that you love...clever and beautiful at the same time...interesting...I love it of course Pia
What a tale you spin and how you spin it like delicate thread from a spider's belly. Wonderful story from such little details and I marvel how everything you do turns into a love poem in the end...but then I guess...that's just you. Fit for a dreamer! love Gina