19 JANUARY 1991, Page 30

Transference

for Graham Davies

A moving tableau, so to speak. On the same couch, week after week, Talking of absence, I can see Its likeness bearing down on me: The ceiling blankness. But if I Let my glance fall to where the sky Through the broad window hangs behind The web of garden life, I find Love I'd thought dead diffused among Bright songbirds; they with inhuman song And vivid colour, as they feed At the bird-table, hit my need For harmony. And then your voice Behind me, beyond reach of choice•, Speaks out of darkness and dismay. De profundis, Domine.

Clive Wilmer