1592
5.131
10.v.24
first love
was our
own fire
and I still
have the face to wake
I will not
call it yours
it’s like
a moon come strung
far gone
all mourn
the light
still falls
mossed
over
much done
all to do
I have the
ache now in the bone
down as
deep as day
once
listing
‘lust was
us’ we’ll say
and came
with care
we would
appear in other arms
to mend
the tribe
an
argument for our own sake
puppy
splay slid
like drink
along a bar
and there
of course was subsequence
the
whipbirds waxing for first light
it was
fate that we’d be loved
almost
always dizzy till
moment
converged upon
and now so
safely washed away
remembering
from here
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.