AT THIS FARTHEST BASE
The voodoo mama has jaundice; her cat squirms
on the sea foam. The teak-wood carving she
kept on the mantle has been sold to a dealer
of tribal antiques. On her bed-pillow, I notice,
is a doll covered it seems with pins - 10 to
15, at least - knee-joints, elbows, forehead,
eye. I wonder what that's about and why.
Storybook endings sometimes get jarred
by unexpected things - the trap you
thought was about to spring, it stays
open instead and lets everything out.
Space, and space again, is the
infinite deity which surrounds
us and in which we are
ourselves contained.
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