David Barber

Were there a tear To spare, where better To be sure the gesture Would linger than here In its own little bottle Blown from a hot bubble To mirror a tear. And were there more Than one could bear, So much the better In the hereafter for The begetter, a little Vessel to stopper Sorrow beyond measure. And were there a tear Too few, far better to hire A weeper, for where But in a tearful little Jigger does it figure No one need settle for Less than a fair share.

Here is where You can get nowhere Faster than ever As you go under Deeper and deeper In the fertile smother Of another acre Like any other You can’t peer over And then another And everywhere You veer or hare There you are Farther and farther Afield than before But on you blunder In the verdant meander As if   the answer To looking for cover Were to bewilder Your inner minotaur And near and far were Neither here nor there And where you are Is where you were

What if   it were possible to vanquish All this shame with a wash of   varnish Instead of wishing the stain would vanish? What if   you gave it a glossy finish? What if   there were a way to burnish All this foolishness, all the anguish? What if   you gave yourself   leave to ravish All these ravages with famished relish? What if   this were your way to flourish? What if   the self   you love to punish — Knavish, peevish, wolfish, sheepish — Were all slicked up in something lavish? Why so squeamish? Why make a fetish Out of everything you must relinquish? Why not embellish what you can’t abolish? What would be left if   you couldn’t brandish All the slavishness you’ve failed to banish? What would you be without this gibberish? What if   the true worth of the varnish Were to replenish your resolve to vanquish Every vain wish before you vanish?