It's Still Life

Battered Clouds

Shallow grass of fluid green, flows broad, old river
Narrow as shadows that slip between bridge and roots.
So softly spoken as you drift, fall, these leaves
That tumble everywhere, thirsty as the clear blue sky.
You shape a daydream, of home, of battered clouds,
Your right hand holds tight the last curls of summer.

You drew a long and rhythmic shape. A summer
With rain that covets this thirsty river.
What peace. What privilage in summer clouds.
In their white sleep, dreaming of flooded roots,
Towns or drowning rats raining from the sky.
You remained silent as dry and dusty leaves,

You falling in love, again, and when summer leaves,
So does he. Like those sleeping clouds of summer,
Thick and heavy as old brocade. Greying silk sky
Is a half-remembered colour, it caresses the river
With images and places you’ll never see. Roots
Lift their heavy-lidded eyes and watch the clouds.

There’s a bend in the river where it meets the clouds,
A bend like a broad hip, a shimmer of birch leaves,
They fall and dip like an oar into life, into the roots
That rise from nowhere, rise like ancestors of summer.
Tree branches stretch. Out. Bare. Skeletons of this river.
You bought a boat, wanted to sail across the sky,

So you rubbed your hands against the night, the sky
Mapped by its thousand stars. Storm clouds
With their musk and smell, twist at humanity’s river.
You walk waist-deep in silt and frail sticks, leaves
Like wet fingers, and gnats rise into your summer
Sails. Blow wind, uneasy tired breath. Take root,

And anchor your boat to a horse’s mane. Take root.
As I recall it was a long summer with a wrinkled sky.
The fields and clothes dried hot as a cotton summer
When you sailed away. Out of our lives. Into clouds.
Left us watching you. Watching the falling leaves.
You disappeared as our parents napped by the river.

Into the summer afternoon, into the clouds
Of August’s sky and uneasy sun. He leaves,
And disappears under the roots of that river.

A Sestina (39 lines long!) for Miz Quickly. I’ve only attempted a Sestina one other time, and it was a dismal excuse for this form. I somewhat approve of this one.