By Anonymous
Since the rain comes heavy
And my roof has fallen down,
I have left you, languid and lean,
To look for a cleaner place than here
And a cloak to cover me:
Never musky, never damp,
neither dark nor homely nor deep,
I wonder,
would that I had a hollow to be filled with starlings.
Would that this were a mountain song
Or the stone at the bottom of the lake, or a breeze.
Instead my core is flesh and heat.
Instead my core is dark and deep
And I sleep with it, and it sleeps with me
It won't sing pretty, or be well lit, or clean,
But when it rains, I cover it
And when I pain, it covers me.
So I have asked for no pinewood overcoat
Or sea to shield me from my own pier
I write an invitation to my body. It reads:
My heart is not in the highlands.
My heart is right here.
Since the rain comes heavy
And my roof has fallen down,
I have left you, languid and lean,
To look for a cleaner place than here
And a cloak to cover me:
Never musky, never damp,
neither dark nor homely nor deep,
I wonder,
would that I had a hollow to be filled with starlings.
Would that this were a mountain song
Or the stone at the bottom of the lake, or a breeze.
Instead my core is flesh and heat.
Instead my core is dark and deep
And I sleep with it, and it sleeps with me
It won't sing pretty, or be well lit, or clean,
But when it rains, I cover it
And when I pain, it covers me.
So I have asked for no pinewood overcoat
Or sea to shield me from my own pier
I write an invitation to my body. It reads:
My heart is not in the highlands.
My heart is right here.