Todd Swift
An England
The air is active, intervening.
Outside my window, the park is green
And divisible. A girl passes.
Sorrow narrows and reduces
Whatever were the higher trespasses.
Step out of the wind and speak
With me, if you might, goddess -
What isn’t pushed down in me
Heart-throbs, though bereft.
After god, then time, left, kindness
Became a requirement, but rare, still.
I’ve done some thinking lately.
England’s cold as water ice-boxed;
Does it see the little grooves,
The tidy, mean machination?
Yet, sun slowly passes a hand
Across vales and lakes here
And, momentarily, a look of grace
Descends. A thought drafts up,
Feeling like a soul might, if souls
Were allowed by rigorous testing.
Cars are parked for men to mark them.
I want so much to bunch the lamps
Together in the park, a bouquet
Of white roses, glowing in a vase
That lets children dart among its stems.
Todd Swift is Oxfam Poet In Residence (Great Britain), Poetry Editor for Nthposition online magazine, a Visiting Lecturer in Creative Writing at Kingston University, and a Core Tutor for The Poetry School. He is the editor of many anthologies, such as 100 Poets Against The War (Salt, 2003) and four of his own poetry books have been published, most recently Winter Tennis (DC Books, 2007). Poems of his have appeared in Cordite, Jacket, New American Writing, Poetry Review, Snorkel, and The Wolf, among others.