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The Spike or Victoria College Review 1937



Saying good-bye on the edge of the dawn
With nothing between us but distance of light,
And during the night
Your warmth was a mould.

From being a petal wisp blown on my hand
Your kiss was a rapier plunged through light
And during the night
It was jewel-dipped gold.

But the dawn . . .
In the dawn it was cold
Cold like the steel of an ugly knife
That hung poised
Beyond your colour-drained eyes and chiselled mouth.
O, the bitter dawn-light; the torment of light.

From the rim of the day
From the leap into light,
Can our love creep away
And hide in the night.

—E. M. Brisco.