These I Have Loved

Damian Mangat
Staff writer

Moringa seed oil, my grandmother’s lotion,

Infused oolong tea, a Sunday devotion.

A locket clasped with my aged cat’s fur,

prickly tongue, Cheshire provocateur.

Snow bleaching Marlboro ashes, sculpting

The bristled chins of men. Erupting

A sneeze of book dust shelved beyond reach

vindicated by ghosts among the leaves.

Velvet collars in Dartmouth green

That sweep the skin in-between

My secret parts like feather and quill.

Stiff peaked macaroons, and daffodils

junctures of time blown cross my palm

Symbols of Islam and mantric ashrams

The monastic orders and giving of alms

my protestant vicar reciting the psalms

on Sundays. Sweeping moths from frost –

Brooke, Blake the spoils of pathos,

Wilbur Lucius Cross to muse beguile

Creation. Candles mould his profile.

Wax scented with gardenia reeds

Fragrances my lambswool coat. Eve,

in page boy cap, ducking mudslush clumps

A clucking squirrel, and sugarplums

The suction of windchimes. Turtlenecks

Him, a birth scar, a hunt-and-peck

His lips, my lips a moody foreplay

A cobalt night and chardonnay

Cobblestone slick beneath my feet

Swelling monsoon tides when sleet

Melts. Curtain calls, arriving late

Laughing lines into my fate.

Kaleidoscopes of memory found

Gooseberry jam and merry-go-rounds.

Trinkets, baubles and bindertwine

Gypsies sharing elderberry wine

Saint Christopher in silver-lined cloak

The Scarlet trappings of womenfolk

Where human nature manifests.

And Nature nurses eagles’ nests.

Evergreen quills as sharp as my pen

Shakespeare seized by Rodin bookends.

The oceans’ moods in indigo ink

spiritsailing history when I think

of these I have loved.

About the Author

By Excalibur Publications



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