Blue Stone Arrow

Matthew watched the blue parasol out of sight.
Then he went back to Stone Street on a path as straight as an arrow.

Blue, stone, arrow, each a step on a bridge built of time,
every brick, a moment at rest in denial, as Zeno tells it,
of the possibility of motion

Blue, the sky, a half-moon of parasol overhead which settles in the palm
and yet is distant as the blue dome with its arches of gold
hovering over the Cathedral of St Matthew the Apostle

Stone, the earth as endless rock, at once cradle and grave, motion and motionlessness
in one

Arrow, the flight of our duration, seen as straight to the fletcher’s eye,
to earth and sky, an arc bending in descent at its peak

Together, the suturing of earth to sky by a life whose aspiration to an endless seam
is illusive as the sky-blue dome within St Matthew’s


Posted for dVerse ~ Poets Pub’s 14 Tuesday Jan 2020 prompt: Poetics: Last Lines
Posted by Mish

First two lines of my poem are the last two sentences of the novel The Queen of Bedlam by Robert McCammon
The Queen of Bedlam by Robert McCammon

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