He might be coming tonight, said Heart to Head.
No he won’t, Head replied, firmly. You heard what he said.
I know, said Heart, but still he didn’t exactly
turn me down flat.
Well, he wouldn’t, would he? said Head,
you know him better than that;
what he said was ‘barring a miracle’–
I thought you understood.
Granted, he did, said Heart, but he also said
he would if he could.
If he’d meant to come, said Head, he’d have mentioned trains;
he’d have confirmed the time.
So he forgot, so what? said Heart.
Since when has that been a crime?
Go on, said Head, firmly but gently. Pick up the phone,
ring and un-book the hotel.
Not yet, said Heart. But I will.
Why do you carry on playing, said Head
when there’s so little chance of winning?
Poor Head–am I ‘doing you in’? said Heart, grinning.
Death, even by a thousand cuts, said Head,
is still, ultimately, Death.
‘Hope springs eternal in the human breast’,
said Heart, under its breath.
That was unworthy of you, said Head,
it’s a cliché, and it’s ugly.
‘L’espoir luit comme un brin de paille dans l’étable‘,
said Heart, smugly.
Straw doesn’t shine in stables, said Head,
it just lies there, soaking up shit.
That’s right, said Heart. That’s it.
Face it, said Head, not unkindly; he isn’t coming tonight.
I know, said Heart. But he might.

*****

Ann Drysdale (née Corrigan), 1942 – 2024, was a celebrated poet and editor, known for her wit and humour. Her work won the Dylan Thomas Prize for poetry in performance and numerous awards in competitions including Manchester, Cardiff, Peterloo, Bridport, and the Housman Society. Born near Manchester and raised in London, Ann later lived in Birmingham, the North York Moors, and South Wales. ‘Dialogue’ comes from her 2009 collection, ‘Quaintness and Other Offences’.

Here is the bio that she chose to represent herself with: “Ann Drysdale still lives in South Wales. She has been a hill farmer, water-gypsy, newspaper columnist and single parent – not necessarily in that order. She has written all her life; stories, essays, memoir, and a newspaper column that spanned twenty years of an eventful life. Her eighth volume of poetry – Feeling Unusual – came together during the strange times of Coronavirus and celebrates, among other things, the companionship of a wise cat and an imaginary horse.”

She was a much-loved member of the world of (especially formalist) poetry, and there is a tribute (and an enormous selection of her verse) in The HyperTexts. She was a truly good person.

“head over heart” by i_gallagher is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.