No. 8-9


Les Murray  

Ne tibi supersis

Ne tibi supersis: 
donít outlive yourself, 
panic or break a hip 
or spit purée at the staff 
at the end of gender, 
never a happy ender ó

yet in the pastel light 
of indoors, there   is a lady 
who has distilled to love 
beyond the fall of memory.

She sits   holding hands 
with an   ancient woman 
who calls her brother and George 
as bees summarize the garden.




The copyright of 
everything published 
here remains 

with the authors.

Main Page | Current Issue | Contributors| News | Where to Buy | Links | Contact us | Archives

© 2003-2007 Ars Interpres Publications.