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This poem is taken from PN Review 3, Volume 4 Number 3, April - June 1978.

Four Poems Peter Scupham
Lanes

Night, and the car poised.
Under a lunar gauze
Ash-tints, charcoal,
Cloths of scrim and velvet.

The labyrinth wakes:
A slough of dark skins,
A stretch of shadows.
She plumbs her own depths.

Nothing, up sleeves
Cuffed by mouldering lace.
Ragged gloves haul in
A spool of light.

Brief revelations:
The air moth-flaked,
A spectral rabbit
...


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