The Poems of Rowan Williams by Rowan Williams

Author:Rowan Williams [Williams, Rowan]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781847775382
Publisher: Carcanet
Published: 2014-04-01T04:00:00+00:00

Who knows where the sky’s needles go,

Whose flesh is cut? But the ground dries,

Under the sun, and the fat roots grow spindly

As old limbs do when there’s no more blood to spare.

The devil, said the witches, had an iron prick,

Icecold and smooth. Glass into iron; a reasonable sun,

Nourishing, resolving, folds into a shaft

Of rapists’ surgery, till there’s no more blood to spare.

So much, we say, for warm and clear illusion,

For the sealed surfaces of thought that incubate

The vegetable nightmares, fright, despair.

Now they can hear the music of our ironies.

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