Pilgrim Suite John Robert Lee
F e a t u r e s / L e e
who will come to the red gate with the red mail tinbox its pillars topped with red pyramids who will walk past the yellow hydrant and stare through the closed gate at the thick variety of garden wrought-iron barricade round the verandah who will see the green banana leaf peering over the grey wall for who might come through the red gate on Pelham Street?
‘If I feel the night move to disclosures or crescendos, it’s only because I’m famished for meaning.’ – Li-Young Lee persistent lament of wood-doves who, who has gone, gone forever?
orange wafer of sun settling to horizon’s eclipse evenings shuddering with unrequited affections
I would love you with ardent hunger beyond your name, your ancient eyes, sensual lips tattoo on your left breast the inexorable news of your dying in this hour in which I love you I am a poem without a theme without a clear image of you a line to follow a procession of remembrances to metaphor no half-rhyme rhythms to match ambiguity going past your old house near the Baptist chapel and Chinese grocery the blue estate-wall on my left with its crimson border trees behind it raucous with afternoon parrots a cock under the avocado tree crowing for some epiphany wanting a Creole love song from Philip Martelly and Kassav to make me recall your sensuous hips incomprehensible smile perfect mouth your various infidelities like the turning familiar corner into which I bend my eyes alert for unwelcome surprises how can I love you without you these November days close with apocalyptic cloudbursts over darkening horizons who, who has gone, gone forever wood-doves lament persistently.