On Light - Veronica Aldous

On Light

Like Constantinople, I made many words from you
shimmering palely in the horizon
a hologram of indefinite proximity.
I called you into being
My edgeless paper, limitless ink
spattering, infertile as the desert
while you filed and compiled in your office
desultory as a demi-god.
"I'm dreaming" you always said, and I was too,
although mine was quite a different one.

"When we came finally upon the dome
it was whiter than bone, than polished ivory -
All the houris were locked away, catalogued
as if they were a library, a vast force of knowledge,
which indeed they were, if you believe that
emptiness has form, and can be reckoned and valued.

I put myself into the rain that I could touch you
Into the city dirt under your feet -
"No-one reads poetry any more" you told me
As you lay behind a filigree screen -
I was taking notes, trying not to catch your golden gaze
For fear of sudden blindness.


Veronica Aldous 2008
poem+art