Skip to content

The Chain

I will not care
if you do not love me.

We have already
sat on the hill together
in sunlit trees.
We have watched the owl.

We have already
eaten pears
examined chalk on a brick wall
drunk a pale yellow tea.

And besides,
the chain between us has fallen now:
a centipede upon the ground--
clay and dry
like a bone.

I do not care.
It has been nice.

I will be glad that,
like an early star,
the bright sun has taken you from me

every morning.
4

You might also like…

Poetry

Stop

Conall Walsh

Of the over 5,000 numbers in the English language, it is the number 14 alone that has come to hold a special place in my heart. I'm not a superstitious woman, or a woman at all for that matter. I am ...  [+]
Poetry
Poetry