Noon, 12
Uninhabitable! they shout. Uninhabitable!
3. am. dawn
We start out towards a pile of stones.
A bird flies up from behind it.
Museum
In the centre
of a diamond-empty museum
a brooch blazes.
It ravages. It perpetuates.
Where do we get to, from this blaze?
The motionless galleries?
Your empty cuffs, maybe?
The June afternoon
ravages. It perpetuates.
Avenues of September!
My love! My love! My love!
The avenues come to a stop.
Universal wounds in the garden.
You have attempted
what nobody dared, you poor orphan!
May the night's
eternally-empty monstrance
brighten for you.
Choir
The Creature pleads
sinks down, surrenders.
The Creature - the One That
Pleads - opens itself.
Ted Hughes and
