Archive for December 21st, 2017

Thursday, 21 December 2017

The Longest Day of the Year by Michael Harlow

One word one word and then another,
one word and another, waiting for the
light to come stealing in, you ask what
is it that love dares the self to do?

All he wanted was to put his shoes out
in the moonlight.  To hear music be the
saint of laughter again.  And all that
time rehearsing his lines in the dark;

the love-mess of it all – when so much
forgetting is always about remembering;
on the long walk backwards to meet
himself coming the other way, but didn’t

It’s just that I’m made of clouds, he said,
so many of my words have lost their
happiness. That endless dream of being
awake forever and there is no one there

How the longest day of the year keeps
getting shorter.  And I am too much alone;
if you love me will I love you too, will you?
It seemed to matter that there was no
marvellous music anymore:  all that he

could hear one word one word and then
another, waiting for the light to come
stealing in, all that he could hear was
how he lives in the buried talk of others;
inside the long history of goodbye.

From: Harlow, Michael, The Tram Conductor’s Blue Cap, 2013, Auckland University Press: Auckland, pp. [unnumbered].
(https://books.google.com.au/books?id=p9RaAwAAQBAJ)

Date: 2009

By: Michael Harlow (1937- )

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