Ivan Head: ‘The Poet Transcendental’

The Poet Transcendental

There was a time when I could fly over high hurdles;
set them one peg lower and make my body
seem to flow in fluid strides between them,
unimpeded by lumpish density.

Though not school-best and on some lower rung,
I got it on my curriculum.
Since then I have read that some were dragged on other hurdles,
half-dead to Tyburn or Tower Hill for more brutal competition.

Time was when I could also throw the discus
not discuss it, spin it centrically
and make it fly disc-wise
or slice the air in apt trajectory.

Aquinas, mal-named Dumb Ox, said
agility would mark the resurrected body,
give the ability to be somewhere instantly
by will infused by Pneuma, straight and simple.

I also listened when he said
“Compared with what I’ve seen
all that I have written seems
so much straw.”

I’m left thinking of the poet who willed cremation
to improve his odds of being resurrected
to a more glorious liberty of the sons of God,
far from a poisoned liver and its uninvited black dog.

Ivan Head