INGE SØRENSEN
1961-71
    
    
 

MISHAP

Poem: Alasdair Gray © 2005

 
Back

 

The tide ebbed before flowing strongly,
the moon waned before it seemed a globe,
the sun began setting an hour before noon
and the loved woman was loved wrongly.

There is no excuse for this and can be none.
Soft pricks won't be stiffened by verbal alloy.
But the man resorts to words out of old habit.
The woman has only rage for what she did not enjoy.