David Selzer is a writer of poetry, prose fiction, screenplays and stage plays. He embraces digital platforms to share his work of more than fifty years… READ MORE


  • DULCE DOMUM

    Built well before the Mahdi sacked Khartoum,

    like a ledger or the Church of England

    our house is square, accommodating. Swifts,

    each May, pronounce their southern benison

    on ashlar cornerstones and dead masons…

    A butterfly, lost in the wintry cellar,

    seems closed as death but wings part knowingly.

    O peacock eyes, how you seduce from purpose

    and time! Imperial birds cry harshly

    in paper gardens… At dusk, in indigo,

    swifts dissolve. The house is white, seems solid

    as a steamship. Darwin and Marx sent more

    than smoke up the funnel.

     

     

     



    Leave a Reply

    Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Search by Tag