8th January 2014

Sonnet 65


Her death as time - Stevie Smith lost at sea,

Pink arms waving the hands to chime some power

Of projection on seawash wall , her plea:

Wreath of one biodegradeable flower.

Japonnais- tight paper garden scrolls out

Countdown; le petit mort of sex and days,

They'll be fewer if you've got too stout -

(Which is) immaterial once decayed.  

We share most genes with bananas, alack,

So here's to er, peeling off your skin, kid,

And us evolving from our egos back

To a time when self-regard was forbid.

This poet types her font style late at night,

 A Rokeby Venus* keeps your blank screens  bright.


*ie The Toilet of Venus ("The Rokeby Venus"), 1647-51
Diego Velazquez, 1599-1660.  Venus reclines on a bed before the mirror held up by Cupid.  The reflection shows her face, suggesting that she is observing the viewer rather than herself.