The Ladies of Butcher’s Row

One of my favourites of my own poems…


The Ladies of Butcher’s Row

There is, you see, this song I worked,
Assured in word, that once unstopped
Had a kind of water rhythm
And sunlight warped into its lines.

I took my words into the street
And sang to decorate the air.
One night I sang in Butcher’s Row,
Performing for the ladies there.

They dropped their knives and changed my song.
I tried to rule and train this change,
But still the choir conspired a way
To cleave and bleed into my air.

Now it had a chopping rhythm,
And blood they warped into the song.
And such unwonted harmonies!
I dropped to the road in awe.

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