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This poem is taken from PN Review 169, Volume 32 Number 5, May - June 2006.

Six Poems Diana Bridge


Gopuram

We don't know what much of it means,
though our eyes climb knowledgeably enough
the temporal face on whose sides sleep
creatures of the three worlds; they move,
our eyes, across a stocked façade towards
a sunburst at the top made, we read,
of cobra hoods - if we could see them.
What I see is ordered to within an inch
of its life: pilasters, gods, pilasters, women
alongside, preening, griffins rearing,
women underfoot; a scheme designed -
ordained - repeated to tilt us out
of comprehension, wouldn't you say?

You don't say. Your relationship is with
tapering height, ideals of light, shade; all right,
...


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