This poem is taken from Stand 221, 17(1) March - May 2019.

Prue Chamberlayne Three Poems

If way to the Better there be, it exacts a full look at / the Worst.

                                                        Thomas Hardy Tenebris II

I stared at school at not-belonging girls,
      Parsee, Nigerian, Russian Jew; 
I fingered bemused Maisooni’s midriff string
      did here start hairline cracks in views?

At home, our farm denied the spine
      of human history’s intermixing;
I’d firm belief each race should stay apart,
      mules thankfully debarred from breeding.


Yet I’d soon tremble at the natural swing
      of those who’d walked barefoot in bush; 
find the quiet look of dark brown eyes,
      hand taken, waltz and then a jive,

weight of arched arm and body safe to spin;
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