Seven Poems

keeping space for

silence, waves

to  commemorate

The Kiss

To these I turn, in these I trust—
Brother Lead and Sister Steel.
To his blind power I make appeal,
I guard her beauty clean from rust.
He spins and burns and loves the air,
And splits a skull to win my praise;
But up the nobly marching days
She glitters naked, cold and fair.
Sweet Sister, grant your soldier this:
That in good fury he may feel
The body where he sets his heel
Quail from your downward darting kiss.



War of Words – A wonderful project on BBC here

Seven Poems

[CoverPhoto: Berliner Mauer – from: Margaret Hunter, Joint Venture @SSalvadori]