Poetry Porch: Poetry


Sweet William
by Kathleen Kirk

For the first time, I hear all the lyrics:
He scorned her before she scorned him.

I forgive myself for not hearing sooner
the hazy music under the breeze,

for not seeing sooner
in blooms of fevered pink

fringed with spilled milk
how a man wants only the hot pink blush,

not to tend the garden, as I have,
taking small tufts of weeds in my bare hands.

Day after day, pinwheels unfurl.
Who can resist the color, the sweetness?

I forgive Barbara Allen.
She let him die in his shame and love,

the way we all want to die:
in the glory of confession, hot and pink,

visited, forgiven, mourned
and sung.

Copyright © 2009 by Kathleen Kirk.