One Long Jump by Lenrie Peters

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One long jump

From the early days

When the face was like a globe

Round, revolving, limitless

Sharp incisive like a probe

And eyes which could see

With the completeness of a globe – geometrically

A soft film of brown hairs

And a language of birds and flowers.

One long jump

From the early days

When wave upon wave

Of passion merged

Cutting their losses

Preserving their ‘gains’

And beauty tingled the flesh

Like a snake

On the surface of the lake

Yielding her store of comfort

Without deceit

Without fictitious powers of support

And no didactic analyses

To know that milk was sweet.

One long jump

And never another

Never quite the same

Because things get mouldy

In the grave

And milk loses its taste

On the coated tongue

Bartered birthrite

Like the chaste membrane

Is lost for good

So we can never arrive

At the beginning

To couch in the blue light

Of the primaeval hive

Except in the dissolution of the flesh

And early strength never returns

To oppose the grinding artificialities

Or to marvel at the rose

One long jump

The first and last

And no progression

So take it well.

Looking back upsets

The balanced wheel

Too tired if we arrive

It is enough

To seek the short cut

To the grave.