(Charles Hewitt, Gala Dali, 1955, source: Getty Images)
It is a dry time
The muses have taken a hiatus
The wasp in my room buzzes: All irritation
The child mourns
The slate grey sea does not stir in the absence of breeze
Then a bard sings outside
A single sweet note followed by a single sweet
Note
Somewhere other birds take it up again
It is Gala time
The dry bones/stones have allure on either sides of her back
Her gaze into the far distance seeks
I am out of sight, on the other side
The bird cries a single note
Another bird/bard flying on makes its own songs
I will go down and find company and solace with my child
Down the stairs in a surreal, dim-lit evening
Escape from the gathering gloom in my darkening room
Having now seen God and poetry in a woman's photographed & unvarnished hair, buttocks, and back.
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