Poems by Meg Mack by Margaret Mack - HTML preview

LINES BY A WOMAN SCORNED

There!
I told you I would find you.
Don’t say that you weren’t warned. I hear rumours you’re escaping Wrath of a woman scorned.
How well you know me!
You should know contrary Peg. You suspected me of mischief. You put the notion in my head, So now I’ll tell the world
How mean you were to me,
And I’ll flaunt my sweet forgiveness For all the world to see.
Cruel you…and noble me,
Just as you said, you see.

There!
I hope that this will teach you Not to flee me in distrust.
I will have my scorn remembered Until you turn to dust.

And I, too, shall remember Each time I walk through rain, Or see a Sydney bus,

 

Or hail a cab,

 

Or hear your name.

 

I shall remember

 

In the slam of squash balls against walls.

 

Seeing white-clad players, or squash racquets, I recall. I remember, seeing white coats in the wards,

 

And sheets, and stethoscopes, and overcoats of thick blue wool, And blue pyjamas.

 

Whatever’s white,

 

Or blue,

 

Is you.

 

I see on all the beaches

 

Your lean, tanned body in the sun.

In hair that’s streaked with sunlight I see you.
I hear you
In the soft strum of music on guitars,

And in my own son’s golden laughter. In whatever’s music, or golden, or sunlight, I find you.

 

Now more than distance parts us,

 

More than time,

But your memory is mine.
I have no cause to weep.
If I love again, I love.
If not, I have your memory to keep.

Love, be brave, be strong, But not too proud

 

To reach and take a hand If you should need one.

 

And if you need a hand to hold, At any time,

 

I dare not hope.

 

But would be happy

 

If that hand

 

Were mine.