Swollen Llygaid of Helen &; Mary

THE SWOLLEN LLYGAID OF HELEN &; MARY
('Llygaid' is the Welsh word for 'eyes,' I am informed by Mary.)

1. Helen's Room

Her grey ocean llygaid bolt to and fro
She's crouched at my door and
a red apple smile splits
her wild anxiety in two
The draught at her back couldn't rile
this bright winter bird!

Just the festive spirits who tousle
her feathers, her burntwood hair
And dull the embers of her breast and cheeks
as she pirouettes madly in fraught confusion
Her wanderings follow her grey ocean eyes
Into peril - and we've nearly
a Bloody Mary!

2. Mary's Room

Her rosewood llygaid are rooted to me
She's boughed at the end of my bed
A silverbirch slender, there,
Lean beneath her weeping autumnal crown

I know well that gold drink
that invigorates her laughter but
saps her oak of its fortitude
Soaks and warps her rosewood eyes
Helen's face could launch a thousand frets
on a blustry night like the last