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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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