
| KID GLOVES |
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Dream of the morning finds me Wearing a pair of Thick, padded gardening gloves, gripping Wrought iron of their garden gate. My last glimpse of her descending The rugged path, wearing heavy-duty Rubber gloves, to shield soft paws of hers For their laying-on-of-hands work. Between the two of us It must have drained her. Spanish grandees sleeping in gloves slatheredTwelve years, she begs to remind me I alternated between raising An iron fist to her, and concealing It in a velvet glove. Till irrespective of whether I toss in the sponge Or throw down the gauntlet Since she went away, three days since I'm possessed of the notion Like me, the world has no hold on her, but has lost her. |
| Ann Rivers has lived on the Aegean island of Hydra, Greece for about 30 years. She published the international quarterly S.H.Y. on the island, completed three esoteric prose titles, translated poetry from the French and the Greek and published three chapbooks. She previously broadcast for two Manhatten radio stations, performed in the theatre, indexed books and worked as an organiser in the Peace Movement. Her latest book Pilgrimage & Early Poems followed a trip to Palestine under the aegis of the University of Haifa for whom she edited the Greek issue of the Palestinian journal As-Sharq. Another poem by the author can be viewed at http://www.nhi.clara.net/spiderx1.htm |
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Poem © Ann Rivers, 2000 Web design by Gerald England This page last updated: 25th October 2002. |