Not Only Dark
Some black holes have a ring of x-rays and visible light surrounding them.
Nothing but dark, I said
as I drew our curtains on the darkness
of the birch tree and the robin singing
a snatch of late song,
and yet light all round.
And you understanding. The paradox
of light and dark, a black hole
and a ring of light,
in the space between teacups at ease
on the table and pyracantha
scratching the window beyond
as the wind blew.
Now on a small hill, that place
of wind and silence, the silence
of futures… trees
cut off distances.
Stones, gravestones are master there.
But arriving home I take up that book
of Chinese art, your inscription A trillion
I turn the pages, find the vase with peaches
showing flowers and fruit together,
as in that paradise where peach blossom
lasted for ever.
Irrelevant paradise? But I read
again your inscription: Perhaps this
is a kind of heaven, the warmth of feeling
light circling a possessed absence.