Tuesday, 14 December 2010

Phil Lane



Nine Ways of Looking at Dawn


I.
Dawn encroaches like doom
written on the sky,
a contract you never signed,
a painting without
a signature.


II
Dawn unfurls like a white flag,
you surrender to
a morning that looms
with idle hands,
itches for something
to complicate.


III
Dawn comes down
like a death sentence,
it’s there, it waits,
the sun rises
even on the gallows.


IV
Dawn is birds singing
in the squalor,
sun shining
through the spit
and scorn of judges.


V
Dawn is another
new sky
of blood
and plumbing
and minutiae.


VI
Dawn arrives
when you are trying
to be a man,
emasculates you
with its flat, white
sun.


VII
Dawn yields
neither marked gain
nor marked loss,
it breaks even,
it’s a wash.


VIII
Dawn forgets like rain:
as rain forgets the drought,
so dawn forgets the night.


IX
After the gloaming,
dawn is all there is

2 comments:

Jenny said...

Powerful poem, Phil. Beautifully crafted. The theme made me think of Camus' L’√Čtranger.

Thanks for sharing this. Welcome back to the salon anytime.

Peter Greene said...

What Jenny said (except I've only ever read a bit of The Stranger). I really liked this piece, Phil; particularly the couplet 'written on the sky,
a contract you never signed,', and the birds singing in the squalor. Kind of bang on, in an excellent and very real way. Really a very enjoyable read, and, as Jenny said, powerful. Thanks for it!

PG