Such possessions as gore me pontificate from corners. <br />I am no longer solid but a speech of butterflies. <br />How it spills, when all is said and done: <br />It is hard to see virtue in the cold matter <br />Staining the floor - frills, cups, leaves, arquebuses, <br />Bile - the gross litters of meaning - the new king <br />Knitting up this mess in his brainless sinews, <br />Mere presence the answer to everything, the golden <br />Halo of a new dawn impressing all the peasants.<br /><br />Alison Croggon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/goodnight-sweet-prince/
