Ulysses and the revisitation
His mind awash with words
he knew not whence they came
other words
or others’ words
he knew not
lapping over him
the pebbles and sand
white foam
filtering through
down
under
and all the years
and all the voices
heard not in a void
but within a pained
illuminated word silence
salad days
promise of youth
great expectations
and the waters roaring
off the forty-foot
on a cold December
skies grey
no bathers that day
his father shivering
climbed the tower
and gazed out
the snotgreen sea
read as a timeless book
mournful
gulls wheeling in the wind
never again to return
to be sure and knowing
only what he wanted to do
without doubt
the lingering kiss
under the volcano
if only
John Lyons