Tor House
(for Una Jeffers)
 

remember when there was parking
when we were the only ones here
and people said we were crazy
out on a point indeed
my lover hauled the stones
dug the foundation
whilst I
the scandal of eight counties
forsook my mansion
to stir mortar
cook over an open fire
and how we loved
walls and babies
forming at the same time
cradled by our low ceiling
our warm redwood
the past was a ludicrous shadow
with red velvet edges
servants drifting behind screens
it made me laugh
a hardy, rough-handed laugh
a wind-swept, free thought laugh
with children sward-fighting
in the tower walls

Copyright © Rose Lobel, 2007
All rights Reserved

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

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