Nicole Broadhurst

Liberty Sequins

—for Ronald Reagan

Full of an obdurate philosophy I press

that I in obdurate philosophy prove insatiable as a

it’s its own station, bright integral

sunk, sunken

a consignment, when morning got there

co-sign of sea-wreathes


instrumental objectives that contain people

fallible house you are distrustful of the air


the angel whispered to me, a hollow tinny shout inward

from a great distance

without sound, without sound

come companion


wake-dream mover dream-wake
parade, the somnambulist’s pride
conglomerate exercise


                on hearing of President Regan’s death

completion’s cycle

it’s its own station
bright integral

Notion of clouds
the express dichotomy

hints at its uselessness

word: by the moon on the Atlantic
I will preserve this flame for you

whose procession slows unattended
in charms of my understanding

in the tall grasses which seem to fold
with the weight of their flowers,

woven grain, when the sun is turned to low
& night overtakes the valley.

Are you the one who stood
& poured the unguent of belief

metal sailor, human with a pipe
& sea-legs?

Fragile man the moon is gone:
she is sunk in the later

of the dark clearing. A white tree glows
with the weight of desire

10 producing you, of its own accord.
You can be casually sad

tonight only, Minister, King, Foil
who wore the bonnet of the sun:

its orbit arced in dreams towards the end,
a last rainbow: light into dark

& morning again, that saw its noon
unclasp a gracious restraint

into the invisible stars
that kindly smiled.


You can take the ascendance of the statue
& gild the waters with tears

a boy sways against the reflection
& a man walks out over the water.


The eating citadels anguish
over a flag’s folded compunction

tired striation on parade
blinded by sunset.

Somewhere nods in history’s faint orchard
your lord,

who says
                        It’s not a dress she wears.

                                        I did not dream unattended