(Saying Goodbye) On The New Navaho Plains (at a Tribal Gathering)


she was clothed in the romance of Keates with Byronic swirls shifting within the folds of her skirt         she sat on the ground in Shakespearian attitude
                                                                    opened a book
and read perfumed verses    the story of a kiss unfolded into life                  (the past
                                                                   the dead past always grows
                                                                      gilt edged and glorious)

he watched her words floating off into the green landscape
                                             and head over heels
                                                    over heels
                                                            over heels down rolling hills

into the swoon of long grasses
                               tinged paradise blue with summer’s glee
                                                                        the essence of sun heat     
trawled the valleys like a mist rode the banks and crept over stones        


it was the babble of the brook that told him of her eyes falling into a saddening gaze
at first he couldn’t understand why        befuddled     then he caught sight of a tiny reflection like a kick of soot an insignificant smudge of a cloud that was drifting lonely in the big sky  

he prayed that it would wander aimlessly into the arc of the horizon and then fall off the edge of the world but instinctively he knew that from now on it would always be there
                                                                                               hanging
                                                                                              over him
like an exclamation mark
for in one momentous era of time he’s basking in sunshine the next he’s suddenly drenched in a shower of symbolic rain

            that was the moment when summer was over
he felt it instantly
                   as if a season could have a sell-by date
                                  warmth expired
what still mystified him was a group of Navaho Indians performing a rain dance in the middle of the English countryside
                he could hear drums            beating  
                feel the pulse of spirits      vibrating  
                the shaman’s chants            resonating  
it grew in intensity  
                louder
                       faster
                              twisting and curling around his spine   every muscle                                            twitching
               contracting
locked graphospasm

and every nerve-ending blossomed as a dream catcher
and every dream caught became tear in the transition of demise

as he was attempting to interpret this apparition
                she had walked        barefoot
                             treading on the daisies
                             brushing hours off of dandelion clocks
leaving him as an isolated silhouette against the glare.

* Paul Levy is a regular IS&T contributor and publisher of the Clueless Collective spoof poetry site that aims to be “a
spoof of some of the more, shall we say arty and pretentious, literary
magazines”. (And he turns up in the freezing cold to attend my poetry readings so he's an all-time good guy in my book – Charles Christian)
www.cluelesscollective.co.uk

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