Whirling with Amy

 
 
Each vignette begins with a phrase culled from “The Kingfisher,” by Amy Clampitt.
 

 
~~ 1 ~~
 
poetry is gone—
the miner and the farmer
clench their teeth with toil
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
a downtown churchyard
where old women holding court
leer at three old men
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
A dazzled pub crawl—
what shall we give the barkeeps
for their jollity?
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
pastoral nightfall
under the crossed oak branches
a tryst by moonlight
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
ruined nunnery
celibates used to live here
now skittering mice
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
on Fifty-fifth Street
threading the intersection
with thundering heart
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
a Sunday morning
somewhere across the ocean
where no church bells toll
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
some grizzled spruce bog
where creatures keep to themselves
and no one sees them
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
seeing how his hands
go searching through the haystack
for missing needles
 
~~ 10 ~~
 
stunning tapestry
woven with thread of gold and
the blood of martyrs
 
~~ 11 ~~
 
Through the long evening
one expression recurring—
“You don’t understand.”
 
~~ 12 ~~
 
among its headstones
one in the cemetery
bringing you to mind

 
© 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #219
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 179