Robert Verdon, #366, Reprieve

open out

thin-stemmed rose

nod over the drop

eucalypt crowns ruffling

the built-up myrtled plain below

tawny as a trumpet blast

the morning light on morning birds

and the dawn-stars thrown like dice

open out centuries

open out, bright-clad millennia

open wide, well-powdered dressing table of time

crazed mirror with brown woollen gloves

and a closet of brown dresses from the forties

open out, and follow the longest way (fearing death or immortality)

that bell-lined path into the weather-stained boulevard of peopled eternity