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Sadlands

de Major Parkinson

I remember the wine
And your tomes of wonder
But no nursery rhyme
In the book of hunger
And as you clung to a twine
In your final slumber
I said: This leads to a kite
Up in the wild blue yonder

Follow the Moon, Wind in the Willows
In the hollow coriander clouds
Dance in the mist across the asylum
Where the sirens echoed in the snow
Beyond the afterglow
You must, you must believe in magic

And we danced in the hall of Madeleine crumbles
Through Joyce’s The Dead and The Lass of Aughrim
A sea spell in the the dark for the late Rosetti
You were alive as a lark with a thorn of black confetti in your eye
Follow the Moon
Melancholia

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