in an ocean of silence I was kissed
with le baiser de la fée. her bosom
breathes in the coombs where I stray missing
from the world - estranged and unwholesome
though never till now have I felt more
recollected. through her I came home
to myself and find that I am restored
as I walk young wheat across the red loam
and discover the staircase to the sky
in a place like Peru - of potatoes
and tall furrows. poetry is a lie
that comes true - just as small tornados
flurry up and whisper over the slope
and I reach the other side of hope.
20 May 2021
What is this ? Stravinsky’s Le Baiser de la fée or Keats’ La Belle Dame sans Merci ?