towers, buoyant serapi
and on heavy inscriptions
I must feed my child
Cathy.. betrayal #
Berenice scrambled flailed
Sov, du lilla videung
They're always asking for strength
its dead are forgotten
And the child ran into the barn, I panicked,
I couldn't see her I flew
and then I trod on my ankle
like a fool
I banged the cupboards
and the dust flew what a dingy night
I was life, multitudes, when I came to know this.
I rose straight up with my child held above my head, the warmth of patterned blankets descended from Government Hill and burst into floral borders is that the way you imagined it
yellow mint tabs, caplet abstracted, multiplication red plaza mosaic,
The figures were cultivating the green, soil plots and the cream chimneys,
generators of a low grey thudding hum across a walkway behind a temple.
The fox-form slunk into the bramble,
The fox's buoyed tail like the sock of coastal plains; no paintings near the coast,
grey and mint panels, ranks of long canted grass reflexion,
the lofted spokes energised, enervated. sink-white aloft.