Pencils
1
I celebrate and sharpen
that masterstroke,
the pencil. Its touch
is firm but not final,
subtle foreplay
across the page
towards liberties
of print; and gentler
than a pen. Poised.
Blunt, near a rubber,
on my desk. Unless
it gets lost, another
one in a billion
with all its retractable
words yet to come.
2
Brilliance, mostly,
of length and width
at 45° pressure
of habit connects it.
I write "such keen
engineering
receives scarce heed"
with this newly bought
shiny Staedtler HB.
3
My Spirax notebooks
agree - these descendents
from the original
Borrowdale graphite
models (cedar-cased)
are all the stationery
I need to keep
up to date. Line
breathing into line
down the page,
champion the heart
minute by minute;
chart regions
familiar and remote.
Ah, it's great
the way pencils brave
gales, or emotion,
and remain unbroken.
(From Russian Ink, Black Pepper, Melbourne, Australia 2001)
|
