Website of poet Elizabeth Rimmer

February 22, 2011 Uncategorized 2


Burned Thumb
The holy grail, distilled wisdom
of all the world, slips sideways
through the fingers of authority.
Never mind the years of waiting,
the great fish caught and gutted,
the dragon trapped in the pit,
the long simmered broth of herbs,
it always goes astray. The poet
is always that chance apprentice
sucking his clumsy thumb,
scarred, accidental, listening.

2 Responses

  1. I can read this over and over and still get something from it – beautiful.

  2. Thank you – that is a lovely comment!

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