Let’s, briefly, presuppose you hadn’t fled,
Hadn’t frozen in the headlights of my interest,
Then dashed off, in your maidenly discomfort,
Seeking the river, turning into this laurel.
Let’s briefly imagine, as I kiss the trembling
Bark of your arboreal mutation,
That we’d spoken, at the dinner I’d proposed,
Of mutual constraints and all life’s ironies.
I might have called you Merline, as Rilke called
His artist muse, young Baladine;
I might have spoken of the Duino Elegies
And how the Earth’s transformed. Let’s just imagine.
This article was originally published in the June 2021 edition (vol. 121) of Australian Rationalist.
Photo by Eugene Triguba on Unsplash