Oct/Nov 1998 Poetry

Two Poems

by J. Michael Yates


(On a High Ridge After Dark)

There is no
Way up there
From here.

Between bright
Veranda and veranda
Is a long dark night.

Distance between them
Is the absence between stars
That appalled the Jansenist Pascal.



In the blood-coloured cage
Behind my ribs
The lion circles.

In his chest
Turns a silhouette of slow rage
Like a man with a lion in his chest.


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