Oct 27, 2018
SUNSET, MUSTIQUE A ball of fire is spilling in the sea The empty sky flamingo-pink and grey, Cicada songs creak out the end of day, A choir of tree-frogs whistle: ‘Come to me!’ Our feral cat is sprawled upon the wall, The stone still warm beneath her mottled fur; Her lantern-green eyes blink — she will no stir Until her food is brought, nor heed my call. I sit upon a driftwood bench and stare, The house is full of laughter, guests and light, I dare not stay here long, hid in the night. The bats are out! There’s one… another there! Some fool has rung the gong. I catch my breath As suddenly I know that I’ve grown old, The courtyard cobbles, lit with bars of gold, Spell out the hieroglyphics of a death.