Narcissus
At a nymph-haunted spring
Golden Narcissus sighs;
Hand propped under his chin;
Bees at his thighs;
His mind afloat on stillness
Where his image lies.
O Echo, Echo.
Like the neck of a swan
In the indifferent stream
The other hand trails;
Sleek as cream
Are his dimpled cheeks;
His plump lips dream.
O Echo, Echo.
The bruised flower of his mouth
The honeybee stings;
Rain in his small delicious ears
Like a dragonfly sings
At noon; between his toes
The grasshopper springs.
O Echo, Echo.
Closes a blue-veined lid
Upon velvet eyes;
Falls the spent head; falls
The hand from the thighs;
From the brimming mirror dim
The image flies.
O Echo, Echo.
And now Narcissus lies
Beyond human cares;
Watercress sprouts from his eyes;
Grass from his ears;
From his thighs a honey-sleek flower
At its image stares.
O Echo, Echo.
By Alistair Te Ariki Campbell