The speckled path traces a line
on which patina time will mark.
A clock that chimed important hours,
observing prayers and reading page;
from clammy palms timidly stretched
for reading creases, forward years.
A pared wood cup sweat globule-dripped,
then swirled with mead drained servant poured;
silver, planished, the hand-made sign,
left marks from hall, and sterling wine.
Apprentice piece, held journeyman,
a proof of travel with the joints;
two drawers matched stored marriage wraps,
their waist-let prompting wedding banns.
A cradle rocked white knuckled hands
to dampen cries of father, child;
a beam above smoke inglenook,
hot conversations with less light.
The treasure chest of daughter’s curl,
unlocked, but key of memory;
a truckle bed rolled out of site
that caked boots trod mud, bakers punched.
A varnish of flight pheromones,
more tears, some blood, flaked skin, hut dust,
capped steam from pots, seepage from pores;
ingrained, embedded, history sealed.
This is a reprint of work originally published in From the Edge.
Stephen Kingsnorth (Cambridge M.A., English & Religious Studies), retired to Wales from Methodist Church ministry, has had pieces accepted by Nine Muses Poetry, Voices, Eunoia Review, Runcible Spoon, Ink Sweat & Tears, The Poetry Village, Amethyst Review, SOFTBLOW, From the Edge, Gold Dust, The Seventh Quarry & Allegro Poetry Magazine. His website: https://poetrykingsnorth.wordpress.com.