Threshold

Jena Woodhouse
Campus library


Ejected by the closing gong
from learning's cosy reading-room,
I pause beneath the sandstone gargoyles
rubbing shoulders with the moon,
wan with the influx of ideas
that flood cognition's hippocampus,
riding like seahorses through the blue
waves of alembic mind.

Startled by the cyan depths of night,
the vast brow of the sky, a palimpsest
for hieroglyphs that navigators once
steered by, my eyes adjust their focus
from the sober academic line,
my throat channels the starry darkness
like a draught of ancient wine...