This poem is taken from PN Review 160, Volume 31 Number 2, November - December 2004.
Three PoemsThe Call of the Drum and the Slap of Glory
(After Rumi)
Come to the orchard in Spring.
Sit here beside me. I have a secret to tell you.
Be clear now and quieter than a dove.
I saw you last night at the gathering.
It was midnight.
The whole neighbourhood up and out
peering into the faces of travellers.
Every image is a lie - dissolving.
A hand shifts our bird cages around
and the little hanging lamps.
I think I'm in love
I lose my place
the shape of my tongue
Shhh...
Set fire to your friends
...
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