This is my belated response to this week’s completely optional idea at Poetry Thursday. I wrote it because I am tired of critics and biographers trying to destroy the reputation of (arguably) the most influential poet and critic of the twentieth century.
They took an axe to your trunk.
Cleaved in two, one half
languished and died
on Margate sands
trying to connect nothing
The other half,
rose from the dead
trying to connect with quartets.
When there was no second coming,
your branches were burnt.
Misogyny and Anti-Semitism
rose from the ashes.
But your words still blossom in time.