Patti Masterman Poems

Say nothing, let the dead heaps of Winter’s drought
Lie frozen, let leaves buffer their weight soundlessly;
Grey clouds on the horizon will muffle the wind's sobs.
Soft shovelfuls of earth are deeper down,
...

And now, I find that I am in love with Yeats;
But was never fit to even touch his sole-
Let alone his SOUL.
...

Time runs on splintered heels
And flies like the clock's hands, once unloosed;
If you would climb the mountain of days,
Perhaps unchain, the fettered years
...

Not I, not me,
Not a tooth on a key;
Nothing is separate in this world,
You see.
...

How we submit willingly to surgeons
not knowing the result.

How we tell the magistrates
...

Over the rooftop, under the moon,
I fly in a dream, in my silvered room;
The cover of night has been pulled away,
And I move in sleep toward a different day.
...

Periscope, my eye;
Perihelion, when you come near

Tail of comet, spin of suns
...

In some alabaster glass, I shine
Face fresco'd by the day's first light
As time draws down to the finest line,
Noon-day clouds have attained their height.
...

Lo I am jealous of the dead,
Their sins all forgotten;
Flowers at their head.
Lo, I am jealous of the dead-
...

What will I remember,
What will I forget?
Days and days of promises,
Nights full of regret.
...