The New Age

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.