Stephen Kingsnorth
A Winter Tale
What wondrous world is this,
where touch is gone,
that greeting lost?
I’m moved as single piece on board,
new site, where all see black and white;
a pawn, one step at a time,
every square delineate.
The castle is now grown my home,
the bishops kept in oblique line,
the monarchy’s protection, sign—
a posture for these straightened times.
The days become as night is long,
long pauses mark slow gong of dial,
unwinding for the highlight wind,
when turning key seems magical;
for nothing is as something now –
of no report, significant,
each plan subjected eroteme,
an interrogative become
relationships and daily course.
Shake or hug with smile and kiss
without a click and distant mist,
till lost connections be restored;
when will again I meet and greet,
Perdita find new Florizel?
—Submitted on 03/27/2020
Stephen Kingsnorth‘s poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Gold Dust, The Seventh Quarry, The Dawntreader, and Foxtrot Uniform Poetry Magazines, and Identity, as well as in the anthology Pain & Renewal: A Poetry Anthology (Vita Brevis Press, 2019), edited by Brian Geiger. He is retired from ministry in the Methodist Church and lives in Wales. Online at Poetry Kingsnorth.
SUBMIT to What Rough Beast via our SUBMITTABLE site.
If you enjoyed today’s poem and you value What Rough Beast, consider making a donation to Indolent Books, a nonprofit poetry press.