Invocation

poem

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In the old palace I kept my rooms

Full of music and bright paintings

Of ladies and sages, of spirits and shepherds;

I kept the music in the silent golden walls

Where they came to me, so many moths to the light –

Kings and princes, singers, servants

And so came she, in time.


The Count insisted:

You danced –

What could you possibly know about dancing?

The rhythm of yes and no

The flicker of thus, and not so

The figures that burgeon and grow –

I never taught you

But here you are, your heels only a whisper

Your arms above your head, your fingers splayed in ecstasy

That I never told you of.


I had a muse, there she is

I had a muse, she has gone

I still keep to my music,

But she never comes, or is lost:

Heart of my making

Soul of my own

Light of a light;

All is lost.