(1) To J M the D T`s. (2) Fatal Secrets.

               1.

To J M the D T`s, ie, Victimized by a Fashion Queen.

Blue hair,
Those orange eyes
Tigerish, Open;
Curving lips seethe through the suburbs
Like Smoke.


Jack Frost
Supersedes Not
Your Sharpness: Nor can
Quick ore burn deeper than your

Silences.


You turn,
I follow. You glance
Hypnotic Curses through me
Making ME perform YOUR Measures,
Spin                          Until I fall.


But soon
The strings will SNAP
Beneath YOUR Fingers,
Jangling notes in your brain`s
Museum:

Then I`ll DANCE..................


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
March 14th. 1968. Slightly revised January 8th. 1973.  

--------------------------------------------

                2.

      Fatal Secrets.

Consigned to anonymity
The skeleton of King Richard the Third -
A wrecked oak lying in the undergrowth
The top hacked through by a crude axe
Branches snagged
Caught in the foetid marsh
The last leaf fallen

Even now
The final question has not been ventured -
The most important information
Lodged in the Mortician`s Pending Tray
His little black box -
We need to know what happened in The Tower
That sultry summer evening
But so far no one has blabbed

Leaning forward to stare into the vortex
The heroic patience of the Archaeologists
Certainly impresses
Keeps us on our toes -
But the harsh light of forensic technology
Has yet to guide us closer to the truth
Or laser open an unexpected clue

Crouched beside the tangled hedgerow
That masks the ruined oak tree
I watch a single Kestrel swoop and glide
High above the edge of Bosworth Field -
No other signs of life disrupt the landscape
Irk the mist drenched morning
Except perhaps a slight breeze smudged by woodsmoke
Nudging some nearby thorns


Trevor John Karsavin Potter 
12th. - 13th. August 2013.