The New Age

David Bromige

Peace & gladness & love, words
whose images she has I know
as well as I, some corner of the world

is all, each time, a beach,
a speech, in the kitchen on a sunlit morning
distinct in memory

for no good reason,
wherever willingly
no-one else but one

beside you comes
or all, they say
like an enormous daisy chain

on the hillside where the children,
where the one child, always
plays. He is the image

born of those words
& when he breaks things in his rage
the mother

discovers what to say
& the father, too
will know-to follow

a mutual
course always
so that one has


the impression one receives
that no two souls
are created just the same

quite rectified-
or in secret lust
to wait till he's asleep

or not to wait, turning on the instant
fiercely, face to face
to face.