Officium

by Nick Swarbrick

In the warm turquoise of the night

I join all dancing princesses,

open my book, unwrap all my prayers

hoping tonight will differ from all other nights.

I push the words I have lugged up here

Like packages, parcels tied

With strings of meanings

Off a cliff, into the empty air

Down to a grey indifferent sea.

Tonight, maybe, there will be no need of seraphs;

tonight, maybe, the psalms will turn to honey in the mouth

tonight, maybe, there will be no Noli me tangere

tonight, maybe, it will make sense make sense.