A Palinode by Philip Ian Hodgins

My second childhood has begun
but the rhythms and the rhymes aren’t quite right.
The way my cells increase
is not unlike the vague, unbitten child
reaching up to childhood’s end.
But with one difference.
My half a bucketful of blood
is filled with rumours of an early death
and I am alone in a room
full of dying flowers.
I think it is the body’s palinode
and as far as I can see there is no God.

From: Hodgins, Philip, New Selected Poems, 2000, Untapped: Sydney, p. [unnumbered].

Date: 1995

By: Philip Ian Hodgins (1959-1995)

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