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Nausicaa 354
A vision of time
Kissing a baby’s head
Running, tugging glorious
Gnat, too old to be nervous
Too young to see the difference
Raised from hell
The throated face races
The radiant flash of eye, bought
With concern, wished away in gentle
Mischief. We watch them go by and note their passing
Their goodness getting on our nerves
Their smile leaves us wondering,
Irritable, caught like prey in their admiration,
We drown with only our teeth to name us.
Underneath the burning mile the rose loses its radiant nature.
(Bloomsday, June 16, 2010)
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