The morning is our place now, blue light
blooming on the rim of the world,
blooming out of night.
I come to you drunk
telling there's an edge each hour
where only emotion spills —
I have few enough words for you.
No longer does a dream of love
settle our hearts in sleep;
the kingdom of the dead
has no time to spare us.
If only the damn words
would run clear!
We draw water from the well
but there is no drink to offer
that is not tainted by pain.
In spring there will be crocuses
thin, blue, daring the sky to change.
Then, walk into your closest dream
and do not think I have not loved you
even with my most crippled part.
"The Hurricane Lamp" [excerpt]
from The Drawing Board, 1988

Photo: Geof Isherwood
Ruth Taylor at The Double Hook Book Store,
Montreal, Quebec, 1988.

Photo: Geof Isherwood
Ruth Taylor reading at Montreal's
Double Hook Book Store, circa 1988.

Photo: Geof Isherwood
Ruth Taylor with Endre Farkas at Bens Delicatessan, Montreal, celebrating the presentation of The Canadian Writers Award to Louis Dudek, March 2, 1990.
|