Rob Miles: a poem

Dimmet

His hands still bronzed, still

baling-raw. His voice

no longer snared, whisper-low

as decades ago, in this same field, he guided me

to not disturb that horse; circling

quietly, its half-scattered straw

an ingot melting, and my thin flames no match

for such a sunset anyway.

 *****

On this, another near-to-night, it's clear

that he has no more kept his mind

from wayward sparks than I

have closed my eyes

before any fading fire, ever since recalled

a slow white shadow

steady on its dial

in the always almost dark.

Rob Miles's new collection, entitled Dimmet, will be published by Broken Sleep Books later in 2024.