When I turn off the light and the dark mile between us crumples and falls, you slip from your self to wait for me in my sleep, the face of the moon sinking Into a cloud;
or I wake bereaved from the long hours I spend in your dreams, an owl in the forest crying its soft vowels, dark fish swimming under the river’s skin.
Night marriage. The small hours join us, face to face as we sleep and dream; the whole of the huge night is our room.
Re-printed from ‘The Times’, Saturday September 3rd, 2005
‘It is not always easy to speak of love. The words we use to do so are often tortured and can be made incomprehensible by passion and heedlessness. So, how then do we speak of love? How does the poet speak of love? Is the language of love pre-ordained? Should it run to a formula? The formula, perhaps, of formal English speech – syntax in other words? The expression of love surely by-passes such strict rules, and resides in the lips, the eyes, the heart.
In short, simple precisely to-the-point words, Carol Anne Duffy, Britain’s current Poet Laureate, in this poem, unlike any other love poem I have ever read, conveys the thoughts, desires, hesitations which beset us in the search for a meaningful form of capturing such feelings.’
Syntax
I want to call you thou, the sound of the shape of the start of a kiss – like this, thou – and to say, after, I love, thou, I love, thou I love, not I love you.
Because I so do – as we say now – I want to say thee, I adore, I adore thee, and to know in my lips the syntax of love resides, and to gaze In thine eyes.
Love’s language starts, stops, starts; the right words flowing or clotting in the heart.
Re-printed from ‘The Times’, Saturday September 3rd, 2005 First published in ‘Rapture’, Duffy’s volume of love poems, first published in 2005.
Here is a spoken version of the poem “Syntax” by Carol Ann Duffy (read by Tom O’Bedlam) . . .
Roland's Ragbag 