Galatea

[Achebe]

Galatea


I can't stare into your smiling face and think
that I should never conjure up a face
as vivid as yours with words alone, or even
stone -- perhaps I need

to ask for the Lord's forgiveness,
to feed on the fruit the dove selects,
to learn the vital art of description
and not fall into the old obsessions .....I like 'old obsessions' - it's a bit enigmatic but still intelligible

(out of the remnants of shooting stars, Pygmalion
sculpting red hair, green eyes, and the implied) ... I don't like 'the implied', it's severely unpoetic. Also, while "out of ... etc." is nice in itself, I don't think it belongs here. It interrupts the narrative. Perhaps, if you had it as an italicised prologue below the title (I don't know what the right word for that is...epigram?), it would convey the Galatea connection adequately.

perhaps, between the two of us,
there is no mythic narrative to tell,
only the one decision: for love is a decision
no smiling face can make for the beholder.

Lovely work. When I look back at what you've written, I think there's a turning point at that one about the Italian film and 'Neptune's great barge of decay' etc. - your poetry since then has become somewhat more structured, while still retaining its lyrical quality. This one is a step in that direction.