An empty white jug
in a blue basin
now
full to the brim
the water trembling
at each passing train
now
dry
only evaporation & a dead fly
inhabit its hollowness
jug
&
basin
(plain & unadorned)
follow us around
from town to town
from room to room
observing
the seasons
& their passings
accepting our humble
nakedness before them
these our relics
from Victorian times
& ever present
in these our modern times
surviving an I am not
amused monarch
(& many blows & drops & knocks)
offering us our
pure ablutions
washing these our
human shores
until all bitter chill
it was
water froze
& it split
along its impressive
crack
(resembling the eastern African coast)
& so becoming
part of our garden
& home to
a sunflower
stretching to catch
the sun as it passes.
Dónall Dempsey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/child-of-silence-slow-time/
