‘Please supply a biographical note’
A natal error.
Steadied by pamphlets
and brilliance of the babies.
In leaping joy alone.
Why do some will themselves to stone.
Now is it time for night to fall.
And home lamenting bore it
Hose down the bloody lamb.
Shear its woolly skin to the bone.
Penitential rain, cleanse my remembering.
Mop me in blue scrubs.
Mother of mercy, when we were thin!
Be quick
I’ve no companion
bar a shadow
pointing backwards.
Dear life, don’t ghost me yet!
Find me a home
through stumbling rain.
Air
Evening’s rose-peach sky
aches in the throat.
Then quizzical dusk –
the fade-out to primrose,
why should it sting?
What is the hurt in that light?
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