After the Great War,
for a poilu from his paramour—
Some lines on viewing
a picture painted by Una Gray,1
entitled the same—
Against a wall, annual reigns
fall to allow riders to be
swallowed by what we all call Fate’s
troubling pace, throwing to their face
kings anticipating old ways
to save them gracing the front page.
In a storm of headlines you page
through, moving to what name always
eludes you, I save you with face
giving headway, tugging your reins
with a nod when you shrug, poor Fate
concerned we wouldn’t make it, be
condemned never to meet, or be
taking for granted, instead, Fate’s
plan of bringing together rains
better spent on tears, than on page-
after-page of conditions faced
whether or not torn, we part ways.
Stations after war’s stationed ways,
in crowds’ and queues’ platform waves, face-
on we face for a spell no page
can take, capture, or break, to be
depicted in a spread arraigns
querents who tempt their cards, when Fate
calls on us to draw again, Fate
near-fatal, almost lethal, reigns
too-long-to-handle, for to be
holding hands, while wearing crowns, weighs
against fortune worth more than page
or undying fame records, face
and portrait immortal when face
and soul both perform without page
to refer to, silence, in ways
no voice can outdo, does what Fate
wants to but won’t: says to us, ‘Be
who you are and take-up love’s reins.’
Bleu sur bleu, uniforms weep rains
fields killing feelings fought with Fate
to parch, hearts deluge(d) in new ways.
__________
1Una Gray, “Bleu sur Bleu,” circa 1920, oil on canvas, 100.3 × 64.6 cm, accession number 1928.3, Art Gallery of Nova Scotia, Halifax.
Jono Borden 