THE SHADOW OF THE MAGNOLIA

The shadow of the Japanese magnolia(1)

thins out now that its purple buds

have fallen. At the top intermittently

a cigale vibrates. It is no longer

the time of the choir in unison, Sunflower,

the time of the unlimited godhead(2)

whose faithful it devours that it may feed them.(3)

It was easier to use oneself up, to die

at the first beating of wings, at the first

encounter

with the enemy; that was child’s play.

Henceforth

begins the harder path: but not you, eaten

by sun, and rooted, and withal delicate

thrush soaring high above the cold

wharves of your river – not you, fragile

fugitive to whom zenith nadir cancer

Capricorn remains indistinct

Because the war was within you and within

whoso adores upon you the wounds of

your Spouse,

flinch in the shivering frost… The others

retreat and shrivel. The file that subtly

engraves will be silenced, the empty husk

of the singer will soon be powdered

glass underfoot, the shade is livid –

it is autumn, it is winter, it is the beyond

that draws you and into which I throw

myself, a mullet’s

leap into dryness under the new moon.

                                Goodbye.