The other garden...

Shadow

The sun decides to

enter from the garden

moving on the carpet

he touches all your furniture

crawls under your closet door

investigates your wardrobe

moves his arm across

your memories

substituting light

and heat and silence

he erases last year’s

conversations with the stars

changes the contents of your mirrors

invents an alternative

palette for your crystal

scrapes his nails across brocade

revealing tangled threads

like contours on a map

he polishes your tables

his brilliance clings to cutlery

till spoons become large

bright incisionsall

across the grain

a weight of gold and heathe

stops burning

at the flesh of your neck

you are the only shadow in the room

© Jane Urquhart, 2000