The Clifden Nonpareil Poem by Nicholas Green

Unlike the morning sleuth I moil:
Around and back and around
Until the sun
Pads cunning over the compass.

So much for big words then.
Words like sesquipedalian, meaning
Bloody long and hard on spit.

The cat is a detective.
No more, no less, he is establishing
What can be killed -
Not what can be done about death
Or whodunit.
That is the job of poets.

Poetry bolts together syllables to build meaning.
What's meant is music.
In this respect much thirst cannot be equalled.
It is the black tongue at the end
Of a lizard's quest to know the salamander.
Such a quest can only end in fire.

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