Saturday, 4 February 2012

The Long Drive to Ithaca

(Tiger Woods)

Eagle-eyed scrutiny
in a talon's clasp -
the taunting grasp
of knowing fingers.

Rapid uplift,
and uncoil explosion -
with a rocket's trajectory.

Out of kilter -
his affirmative tick
droops under the grind
of spent, slackening cogs.

On the fairway's trim,
in the tree-top dapple,
with the fallen leaves
he stands.

Pendulum swing...

She arcs -
the curvature
of a hooked-beak,
breath tantalised
on the verge of imminence.

In the rushed embrace of gravity
she falls from height -
strikes the apex,
bites, rips,
rolls and writhes
in the ecstasies of wild precision -
a little death...

And a smile
penetrates his lips
in a succession of waves -
like the spread of electric tide.

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