Since giving my beloved Edward Gorey collection a rest from bathroom duty (they are currently vacationing on the landing bookshelves and may send a postcard later) their place has been taken by a ragbag of old poetry books.
For those sedentary moments there is nothing quite like a good poem to inspire both mind and … er … the lower functions.
Anyhoo … while I have nothing blogworthy in my head I thought I might as well share with you an occasional moment from another part of my body: the part that I sit upon and that most people assume - probably correctly - does my thinking.
So here - in defiance of all copyright laws - is what I enjoyed during today's bathroom break: an evocative poem by the wonderful, very Canadian (and sadly departed) Earle Birney.
Twenty-third Flight
Lo as I pause in the alien vale of the airport
fearing ahead the official ambush
a voice languorous and strange as these winds of Oahu
calleth my name and I turn to be quoited in orchids
and amazed with a kiss perfumed and soft as the lei.
Straight from a travel poster thou steppest,
thy arms like mangoes for smoothness,
o implausible shepherdess for this one ageing sheep,
and leadest me through the righteous paths of the Customs
in a mist of my own wild hopes.
Yea though I walk through the valley of Immigration
I fear no evil, for thou art a vision beside me
and my name is correctly spelled
and I shall dwell in the Hawaiian Village Hotel
where thy kindred prepareth a table before me.
Thou restoreth my baggage, and by limousine leadest me
to where I may lie on coral sands by a stream-lined pool.
Nay but thou stayest not?
Thou anointest not my naked head with oil?
Thou shepherdess of Flight Number Twenty-three only
thou hastenest away on long brown legs to enchant
thy fellow members in Local Five of the Greeters' Union
or that favoured professor of Commerce mayhap
who leadeth thee into higher courses in Hotel Management.
O nubile goddess of the Kaiser Training Program
is it possible that my cup runneth not over
and that I shall sit in the still pastures of the lobby
whilst thou leadest another old ram in garlands past me,
and, bland as papaya, appearest not to remember me?
And that I shall lie by the waters of Waikiki, and want?
I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did.
More bathroom break poetry another day.
