 |
ARTLOOK #11 | May 2005
40 in the Shade
In themselves the days of our years are seventy years;
And if because of special mightiness they are eighty years.
Ps 90:10
At midnight the way is paved
in pitch and subtlety
the lip of the ledge slips
beneath my feet: the gully
an abyss where no moon
illuminates the undergrowth,
my descent hindered by various snares:
vines hung with serpents and seducing fruits
adulterous hearts over-ripe, enticing crevices
on which to lose my footing, the trappings
that cling to my psyche. At dawn
the path is damp, and in pursuit of youth
I enter the crease where longing lie,
only to stumble on my limitations
as rays gather in a stagnant puddle,
where my reflection reveals
that I am not as young as I look,
nor as old as I feel
and in daylight
less certain than I seem.
David Coia, Nambucca Heads NSW
