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Jason Webley
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Patches
I wear a silken flower on my shoulder, An orchid made of velvet and of lace, Because a hard wind, driving through my garden, Of its carousals left relentless trace In broken stems and darkened leaves. This autumn I wear a silken flower in their place.
My marble god lies broken in the garden, But I will patch him till he looks like new, So people will not guess that he is shattered, A lifeless Eros made of stone and glue. And since I've learned to patch, you needn't love me If for a while you will pretend you do.
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