Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Karen McCarthy Woolf

MOR BLEU

MOR BLEU

MOR BLEU

—rushes and there’s no more

a whirl of empty dresses—
in this mudcracked room
palm frond feathers
helicopter
downwards
shallow roots torn
a broken bird
  song explodes
on a frequency of earth and lime
too high to hear

—we haven’t got—
a heart              beat
 
—haven’t got five minutes
a groan of sea
shushes up on shore
 
—rushes and there’s no—
no ha ha ha of music
and radio
the thud of workmen
clatter of hollow poles—scaffolding
a truck in first gear
footsteps
school

an O of bells clang-
   clangs across the river
 
and then the hush
of marble
eyes
unseen
eyes
unopened
      
endlessly

eyes
Close

MOR BLEU

—rushes and there’s no more

a whirl of empty dresses—
in this mudcracked room
palm frond feathers
helicopter
downwards
shallow roots torn
a broken bird
  song explodes
on a frequency of earth and lime
too high to hear

—we haven’t got—
a heart              beat
 
—haven’t got five minutes
a groan of sea
shushes up on shore
 
—rushes and there’s no—
no ha ha ha of music
and radio
the thud of workmen
clatter of hollow poles—scaffolding
a truck in first gear
footsteps
school

an O of bells clang-
   clangs across the river
 
and then the hush
of marble
eyes
unseen
eyes
unopened
      
endlessly

eyes

MOR BLEU

Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère