the madrigal, volume ii
by d.w. evans
Time’s weathering blisters and flakes away
the patina of your hypothesis:
your parents, how they lived, who they loved.
Those dash dotted presumptions
were just pointillist’s renderings
of knowing someone well through merely seeing them.
From looking up when knee high, thigh, shoulder, head high,
then swapping vantages.
Them gradually lessening, cresting the vanishing point
Close the book of private thoughts,
put a glass to the wall.
Listen, tell me:
can you hear them laughing
down all those cluttered well-lit yesterdays?
You presumed every atom.
to fit a frame around a portrait you commissioned,
and painted too
and for all the world it looks like you -
even at this distance,
you can’t see it.
DW Evans was born in Newcastle upon Tyne, and now lives in Jersey. He won the Alan Jones Memorial Prize in 2019 and 2020, and was shortlisted twice for Ó Bhéal’s Five Words International Poetry Competition (2020 and 2021), and received highly commended in Acumen’s first international competition (2020). His poems have also appeared in the Frogmore Papers, Bindweed, Proverse Mingled Voices, the Best New British & Irish Poets 2019 -2021 (Black Spring Press), Lucent Dreaming, A3 Review and later this year Driech’s ‘Pop’ anthology.