E.P. for his sepulcher
"America my country.." - 1912 - not
then mere words
and he read, recorded,
Brer Rabbit to his grandchild – not
then - ' Brer Rabbit he lay low..'
The song of the thicket warbler
high summer, the willow leaves
lift and fall in the breeze
you hear the voice, recognise
the voice for a moment starts
stops again, after silence
from another bush, the leaves
the fingers of her hands
across her face
reveal her face as in hiding
to be revealed the song
discontinuous. 'America
my country..' a long trial
for mere words, a long life
appearing, laying low, re-appearing
born and bred in America
the voice of a rare visitor
migrant from the Chinese
from another age. Rihaku.
for Brad,
1 August 2005
