BLUE DIAMONDS.(Brief Article)(Poem)

 
   We were all young poets. A full house of poets in the big smoke. 
   We knew nothing and we feared nothing because we knew nothing. 
   We sat on the backs of chairs to be--not correct. 
 
   Stooped, in a suit, he didn't faze us. 
   He sat and watched us with doomed eyes 
   sat on a chair and said nothing in a suit 
   for he had engineered a fitting doom. 
   We laughed and squabbled to make him sad. 
   We made him sad with all he hadn't said. 
   He had money in his sock. His cunning kick. 
   I had the sharpest claws. He folded my claws 
   over three thousand dollars-- 
   You might as well have this. 
 
   The future becomes the present as it always does 
   wife and mother, house and orchard--all correct 
   but something not quite right with the world. 
   I am standing at my garden gate counting out 
   the refugees trudging past with dogs and prams. 
   Are there more today than yesterday? 
   A bomber plane rolls belly upmost in the sky. 
   The downed pilot in his flying suit 
   his short haircut, his doomed eyes 
   blue diamonds in his ear lobes 
   walks downhill with his hand on my fence-- 
   Why are you wearing blue diamonds? 
   He lays them on my gatepost-- 
   You might as well have them. 
 
   I am clearing the house of all our valuable possessions 
   we carry them obediently down to the local church hall 
   I am on my knees in front of my grandmother's sideboard 
   not regretting my mother-in-law's salver and wine cooler 
   but slipping my gold chain bracelet up under my sleeve 
   I plan to keep my sleeve buttoned tight for all my life 
   they laugh and nod the ladies on the door at the hall 
   there will be all sorts of precious things up our sleeves 
   those of us who are decreed on the wrong side of the Law 
   will try to keep a little back but what we have carried 
   in propitiation is all the less for others later on 
   what we couldn't bear to give will be shaken loose 
   so they smile and give receipts and wave us through 
   we pause in the porch and peep back to say farewell 
   to the dinner set, the wheelbarrow, the vase 
   see the others choosing what was never theirs 
   we let the receipts fall out of our hands and notice who 
   lives now on the right side of the Law because it's hard 
   to tell and we never knew there was a difference 
   the women in charge are laughing as Ivy piles up goods 
   canteens of cutlery, piano stools, Limoges. 
   At home in my bedroom with the curtains drawn 
   I slip three thousand dollars into the purse 
   a woman always carries and see in the mirror 
   I am wearing doomed eyes and blue diamonds. 
 
   I walk out into the innocent field, feed the horses 
   white chaff and molasses, sunflower ...