Sunday, September 26, 2010

PoemBowl 12

Here's the last match-up of the second round! Soon, my pretties, it will all be over...


Notes on the Act of Love
Matt Quarterman

Sadness sings, melancholy mumbles.
Hold hands, but don’t touch faces.
Your embraces should look warm, but never be tight,
lest buttons and pins stretch too far.
Careful choreography helps.
Hold the false ring carefully, or carry another to spare –
lovers should never stoop.
Your gestures should be broad but calculated,
and in your rage don’t pound
too forcefully on the stairs – plywood gives quite easily.


Worry about any lack of nervousness or concern,
and then make use of the downstairs lavatory.
Respond to all the tired, half-remembered lines
and standard jokes with an air of wryness.
Never let on how seriously you take yourself.
When laughter breaks loose in the midst of
all your angst, treat it as you would an amusing line:
pause for a moment to give the jokers peace.
Think very hard at all times, but concentrate
where they do.
Kiss lightly – the makeup smears.
Always carry a reminder of your own mortality:
it will be thought or prophecy.
There is a final gasp before dying.
Let there always be a last breath – 
poetry demands it.
And after the short bow, and the doublet hangs prettily,
and the poison and dagger lie closed in their boxes,
and the morning opens,
never ever look your former paramour
in the eye.


And if you manage to learn something
of love in the process –
tell no-one. And try to forget.





"This delicate dance we do"
Matt Quarterman

This delicate dance we do –
contrived, surely, the steps long set
(a pavanne perhaps, or a courtly step)
but the emotion shines through
in unexpected moments.
And there is still, as always,
some limited freedom in the moves.
The reverential hush dancers 
hold their bodies in
is fitting for even such a 
commonplace routine.
At its best, these exchanges 
are proof enough of grace,
artificial courtesy keeps
violent transactions in their place.
As we brush past each other
with a nod and a bow,
these social graces may be
more than elegance
and give even these mundane exchanges
some hint, however removed,
of the holy.








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