09 April 2007

Nine

Praise be to crustaceans in Mme Crevette’s soup
that she keeps watch for us and that
the Mlle’s man sleeps til noon

Scorn to the lark’s cry
the celestial spheres
scorn to time’s torch in mine eye

I’ll walk to Figeac
where the laundresses by the Célé
still think me a mute

4 comments:

Ian Keenan said...

The first Provençal poem was a nine-line Alba from the 10th Century, which brought poetry out of Lent - this isn’t it, but it's similar in tone.

Ryan W. said...

woah, I used "laundress" the other day. laundress is in the air.

Ian Keenan said...

check's in the mail

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