Cawing like a rook, one ear
snarls dog's teeth, gnaws
loudly the loneliness.
The other speaks
the broken vow,
the bells of a old church
that clang in the night.
The good ear hears the whoop
and the mystical whoosh;
it wakes in the dark,
slips out, looks up
the moon. The evil ear
wicked sinner, lout,
man of the world,
pug-faced, pushes a pram
to morning mass, red ribbon
tied about a dead baby.

Ernest Slyman



If you've any comments to offer, Ernest Slyman would be pleased to hear from you.