Thursday, 22 July 2010

Thorn poem

The river is stilly, green
as snooker table baize.

No breeze winds or gusts.
A man stands in a rowboat

like the letter þ.
Th for Thom; for there; thistles

blue in the static heat, the
endlessly prolonged flashbulb shine

of the sun. Th for thick,
for the fluid body of the Thames.

For this, for this, for this.
The boat is not in motion.