Monday, 2 September 2013


The fish faced into the current,
Its mouth agape,
Its whole head opened like a valve.
You said, 'It's diseased.'

A pale crusted sore
Turned like a coin
And wound to the bottom,
Unsettling silt off a weed.

We hang charmed
On the trembling catwalk:
What can fend us now
Can soothe the hurt eye

Of the sun,
Unpoison great lakes,
Turn back
The rat on the road.

No comments:

Post a Comment