Is there no love can link us?
Is there no thread to bind us – I and he
Who is dying now, this instant as I write
And may be cold before this line’s complete?
Is there no power to link us – I and she
Across whose body the loud roof is falling?
Or the child whose blackening skin
Blossoms with hideous roses in the smoke?
Is there no love can link us- I and they?
Only this hectic moment? This fierce instant
Striking now
Its universal, its uneven blow?
There is no other link. Only this sliding
Second we share: this desperate edge of now
Poor Maeve. Anticipated bereavement captured poignantly and powerfully here.
ReplyDeletei'm just after a bit of gormenghasting and had the thought that i hadn't actually read any of his poetry
ReplyDeleteThe one to track down is 'The Rhyme Of The Flying Bomb'.
ReplyDeleteYou've probably run across this site already.
http://www.mervynpeake.org/poet.html