Poetry Scotland
I have a poem in Poetry Scotland - a first for me. (A pleasing one.)
I see I workshopped it here in 2015. It's taken a while to find a home. Here, for what it's worth, it is. Just in case you don't usually see Poetry Scotland.
Wile E. Quixote
His plots,
his brilliant ploys,
his cunning capers
are his alone. Had he
a helpmeet, a sidekick,
an unsentimental peasant
to warn him and to heckle,
to look doubtfully
whilst sucking snaggle teeth,
would that be better?
He has the sorrowful countenance
of an unsuccessful wolf:
woebegone and wistful
and slightly singed,
always slightly singed.
His courtship is a series
of untimely detonations,
of frantic scrabbling
in suddenly thin air.
He won't give up.
Maybe behind some bush
or in the very next canyon
this mad pursuit will end,
and he will catch
the fabulous bird -
an unimaginable
consummation.
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