Lay for the Day 9th
anniversary of the death of Dylan Thomas in New York City in 1953.
the book of Praises.
Of Dylan Thomas
are you going with your bag of bread
Proverbs and basket of biblical eggs,
When the one white stone of the sun has thrown
Its likeness on the mercy of cobbles
Barely, giving the day a new name?
my bread baked of froth blown off pints
And eggs empty as headaches, to market,
Of course, to sell. His round, unwell face bobbed
Like pickled evasive onions, then laughed
Unpromisingly as the wind struggling
Uphill against the light.
they buy there?
Because Ive a stay-at-home gift they hope
One morning Ill have brought to let them have,
Who, fools, cant afford it, nor know by how far.