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‘Donkey’ and other poems by Marc Carver

By: Marc Carver


I found the most beautiful woman I have ever seen
she sits perfectly still
all white.
Even without eyes
she looks right at me.
That face could tame men
even make fools of them if she wanted.
How could a human hand and hammer make such a thing.
For a second I thought she was going to come to life and tell me my love had set her free.
She is still looking at me now
I don’t want to leave her
but I guess I must before people begin to stare at me.



When I got on the train
the man was talking
and I knew he would still be talking
when I got off in fifty minutes.
was mostly talking about Bob.
“Yea he is okay but you know”.
He said in a way that only people who are used to talking, talk.

He is still talking now
perhaps he never stops as long as he has someone to listen.
My mother would say
he could talk the legs off a donkey.
This guy could talk the legs off of thousands.
As I thought about this I took another look at him
a pictured him in a field
talking to a donkey with others behind
and a big pile of donkey’s legs all piled up
He got off a Clapham junction
still talking
and once again I could see him in that field.


Some days there is nothing to write about
not a dam thing
no joy
no hate
nothing but black clouds
and the sound of nothing
no one to talk to
no thing do you want to do
no doing
no coming
no going
not even the chance of a little drink to kill the day before it begins
these days
just go on forever
like a leak
from a tap



Two swans
two ducks and a seagull sit on the quai where the two rivers meet
They don’t talk to each other
but they seem to be saying something
it seems to be important
but whatever it is
it doesn’t involve me.


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