Ken Smith Poems
|1.||Duck At Haldon Ponds||1/3/2003|
|3.||The Shadow Of God||1/3/2003|
|4.||Encounter At St. Martin's||1/3/2003|
|5.||In The Next Street||1/3/2003|
|6.||The Window Of Vulnerability||1/3/2003|
|8.||The Secret Police||1/3/2003|
They spent my life plotting against me.
With nothing to do but cultivate themselves,
but to be there, aligning their shadows,
they were planning to undo me,
wanting to own me completely.
They have marched through the rooms,
their presences litter the surfaces
close at my elbow calling attention.
When I sleep they begin with their meetings,
when I leave home they hold a convention.
The minutes, the notes, the chairman
calls order, the lamps signal aye. When I die
they'll start in on another,
easy at first, learning his ways.
Now they're gone, taken ...