©Copyright Winter 2019 – Jan Price
You ask me
what I’ve discovered
as I gauge your will to suffer
by the length of the pause I pose
between us. If you hold my eyes
and don’t smile but slightly frown
where sad news frowns
I won’t need to prophesy
for your search has began
I can only offer bread two gulps of wine
and thin coat to console the deepening
of your oncoming winters.
But should your ego smile
within this pause as if you trust
the truth is dust – then why ask discoveries?
I would persuade you
to visit your mother and beg her mercy
for your back-tossed scraps. She will break
then stir you on to solid food.
But I see now
you have transcended frown and fakery
with the oh of your mouth
and that soul search in your eyes.
beyond these war-windbag curtains
into the sun where lions are hand-fed
– we have love to discuss.