Poems by Carolyn Oulton
Published in Sol 31:
THE RAIN
A dumb
stare lost in the hardness of grey dust.
Lost tremors of the agony of flying-;
Always to wake away from the rain, on the wrong side of the wall.
Diminished, dwarfed, every step on concrete dead.
Dead concrete jars the thought into dead space.
I remember flying rain, the thud of running, thumping,
Flying at the wind, the rain, the sea.
Pounding, grinding, deadening of my nostrils.
Jarring, jilting road into the feet.
I remember a screaming that was peace.
A whirling banshee squalling in my head.
A tearing sense apart, a scrabbling yell of joy.
A softness. And the being with God.
And now, in this close place, I feel his love.
But I want to feel that joy.
And I see it. On the other side of the wall.
NIGHTMARES
Sometimes thought is a
demon.
Obtruding on the moment
It surrounds the mind with spiked array;
Pulls it back through obloquy. Turns its face away.
And sometimes thought is
torment.
The slump of weighted lids,
Hooked to screeching talons in the ravishment of sight.
A scorch mark thrust on air. A bite.
And thought is a
changeling.
Self violent once admitted.
Sullen as insidious, self-suspecting ever.
Thrashing and obstreperous. Will not be denied.
Copyright © Carolyn Oulton, 1999