Susan Howe
I
A hawk lands
on the handrail
turning down its wings
like the collar of her cloak.
She feels
cornered
more aloneand utters a name
in the mist –
Uther
She reflects on the night he seduced her.
In Autumn’s
gloom
when the sea
rose and surroundedthe cliff with its wide hem of froth
you came to me.
Not as the
pagan warrior
but as my
husband, The Dukeunbraiding hair
with the scent
of burnt apple wood
on your hands
and the
patience
of a hunterblessing the deer
after his kill.
I felt the
change
and submittedto this slow unbinding
of strands and vows,
gown lacings
and female desire.
The room
shimmered.
Air and
moonlight slidunder the bolted door.
Candle flames
shuddered
in the draftlike yellow leaves
in the wind
drawn and responding to
the evening’s sorcery.
And so it
would be
the vulnerable
takenby deceit – but not deceit
I knew you had come
to me in his familiar form
but with another soul.
A lover’s pursuit,
a chieftain’s
shadow.______________________________________
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