‘Not known, because not looked for

But heard, half-heard, in the stillness

Between two waves of the sea.’

T. S. Eliot Four Quartets

 

If there is such a thing as a muse

I’ve learned that mine dislikes Tuesdays

Perhaps even more than I do.

 

Poems are hard to catch at the best of times

On Sunday there was one under the bed

They like to hang out in hard-to-reach places:

In the margins

On the edges

In traces

Of liminal, transitional, spaces.

 

Between the lines

Between the bars

Between the wood and the trees

Between now and then

And here and there

They’re a hair’s breadth from nowhere.

 

Eliot found some of his best lines

In the stillness

Between two waves of the sea.

 

I’ll be still now

And just listen

So they’ll know where they can find me.