[poetry]: The Gash

(c) Nin Harris 2012 –. All Rights Reserved.

gash-gold vermillion
the plummet of Hopkins’s
windhover; a critic’s notes on the poem
said it made no sense.

It makes no sense
if colours evoked by text
do not sing a bell-like truth
of the flame and the ember as it dies
of that deep gash it leaves —
a patrin for the future
to mark that you have
seen, touched and tasted
brilliance and are now
dull grey ash.

It makes no sense
that sometimes we would
go through all of that again
just for that single moment of
glittering headlong flight.

We shimmer before we fall.