The Magic Wheel

an ode in the manner of Theocritus

O magic wheel, draw hither to my house the man I love.
I dreamed of you as dreaming that, and now
The boxed-in balcony of my hotel room high above
Grand Harbour is a sauna. See the prow
Of that small boat cut silk. Out in the sea
No waves, and there below not even ripples turning light
To glitter: just a glow spread evenly
On flawless water spills into the skyline that last night
Was a jewelled silhouette from right to left and left to right.

Behold, the sea is silent, and silent are the winds.
The not yet risen sun edges the sky
With petal-juice of the Homeric rose as day begins.
I am alone, but with you till I die,
Now we have met again after six years.
Last night we danced on limestone in the open-air café.
I saw one woman sitting there near tears,
Aware that she would never look like you or dance that way –
A blessing, like the blessings that have brought you home to stay.

O magic wheel, draw hither to my house the man I love.
I dreamed of you as dreaming that, until
I saw you wave in welcome from your window high above,
And up the slick hard steps designed to kill,
Like all Valletta staircases bar none,
I went, as if I still had strength, to find your open door
And you, and your tremendous little son,
And your husband, the great dancer, whom I had not met before,
And I met his kindly eyes and knew you dreamed of me no more.

Behold, the sea is silent, and silent are the winds.
Stirred by the ceiling fan, the heat of noon
Refuses to grow cooler as it very slowly spins,
But I take its rearrangement as a boon,
As if it were the gradual work of time,
Which leaves things as they are but changes us and picks the hour
To make us see resentment is a crime.
A loving memory forgets and true regret yields power:
Trust in the long slow aqueduct and not the water tower.

O magic wheel, draw hither to my house the man I love.
I dreamed of you as dreaming that. Tonight
My dream was gone, but flowering in the darkness high above
The festa, rockets set the rain alight,
The soft, sweet rain. With you and your young men,
I walked the shining streets and all was right and nothing wrong
As the joy of our first moment lived again.
In the ruins of the opera house a lizard one inch long
Is the small but vibrant echo of an interrupted song.

Bethink me of my love and whence it comes, O holy Moon.
I dreamed of you as dreaming that, and now
I know you never did. Another day: the afternoon
Burns white as only here the sun knows how,
But a fever is broken when I sweat –
For my delight in your contentment proves that in the past
My love must have been true, as it is yet:
The magic wheel has turned to show what fades and what holds fast.
Dream this when I am gone: that he was glad for me at last.

(TLS, December 24, 2004)